(Post edited... we'll leave it as a bit of emo and move on with life)
Should've gone to bed earlier, when I was feeling all squee and blushy over silliness and second-hand compliments. Would've had amazing dreams if I'd gone in that mood.
31 August, 2008
30 August, 2008
Frustraion and Irritation
Here's the thing. I am most often viewed as a socially dominant, aggressive, intimidating woman. In part because I'm designed of amazonian proportions, except luckily I get to keep both breasts because I'm useless with a bow :).
I'll admit, once I find my feet in a new group, I tend to go Alpha Female. I'm the social chameleon who changes spots to stripes as necessary to fit in and gain acceptance. I've been known to infiltrate cliques just to see if I could shift the dynamic away from someone I didn't particularly like.
There's this misconception that someone who appears as socially dominant must be dominant in other ways as well. I'm guilty of it as well, viewing Arrogance as a reflection of a Dominant nature, its the most likely thing to attract me. Even though I know from experience that this may be completely wrong, that this publicly aggressive person may prefer to shed that mask within the confines of a bedroom or relationship.
Its frustrating, disheartening even. I keep attracting these men who want me to take control, where in all actuality I'm a girl who doesn't even like making decisions for herself... much less anyone else. I've been guilt tripped and bullied into taking on the role and I despise it. I'm not into humiliation and degradation, but force me into a role I don't want and it comes naturally... and makes me despise myself almost as much as I despise you for making me do it. Its the kiss of death to any relationship.
As far as concerns partners (caveat, so that I don't offend those subbie males and such of my acquaintance!)... I find that I cannot love my lover if he insists on casting me into the role of Domme. My attraction for him fades, my interest in him disappears. I lose all respect for him because to me... it makes me view him as less of a man.
I require a man who is capable of being aggressive, demanding, DOMINANT... when I am around an arrogant, aggressive type of man I find that I crave him. I want to be near him, to hear his voice, to see his smile. Make him smile. I want to do little things like fetch him drinks, curl up at his feet and listen to him tell stories or just watch him. I want to be within reach so that he can reach out and touch my hair, settle his hand onto the back of my neck. I want to sit quietly as he caresses my throat, pets my hair, and talks to his friends. I want to go to restaurants and when I cannot decide what I want, be able to tell him what I am considering so that he can tell me what to order.
But I can live without those things if he will at least take the initiative sexually. Tell me that he wants me, tell me that we're going to the bedroom now... grab me and pin me to a wall... Anything, so long as it leaves no room for doubt about his desire and affection for me.
A man who cannot do at least that for me, I can't help but view him as weak. Pathetic, even. I feel as much affection toward him as I do my vibrator, which is to say... I begin to consider him a temporary accessory to be used until I find something that better suits my tastes. Batteries are cheap, that type of man is a dime a dozen.
I think I've watched too many John Wayne movies...
I'll admit, once I find my feet in a new group, I tend to go Alpha Female. I'm the social chameleon who changes spots to stripes as necessary to fit in and gain acceptance. I've been known to infiltrate cliques just to see if I could shift the dynamic away from someone I didn't particularly like.
There's this misconception that someone who appears as socially dominant must be dominant in other ways as well. I'm guilty of it as well, viewing Arrogance as a reflection of a Dominant nature, its the most likely thing to attract me. Even though I know from experience that this may be completely wrong, that this publicly aggressive person may prefer to shed that mask within the confines of a bedroom or relationship.
Its frustrating, disheartening even. I keep attracting these men who want me to take control, where in all actuality I'm a girl who doesn't even like making decisions for herself... much less anyone else. I've been guilt tripped and bullied into taking on the role and I despise it. I'm not into humiliation and degradation, but force me into a role I don't want and it comes naturally... and makes me despise myself almost as much as I despise you for making me do it. Its the kiss of death to any relationship.
As far as concerns partners (caveat, so that I don't offend those subbie males and such of my acquaintance!)... I find that I cannot love my lover if he insists on casting me into the role of Domme. My attraction for him fades, my interest in him disappears. I lose all respect for him because to me... it makes me view him as less of a man.
I require a man who is capable of being aggressive, demanding, DOMINANT... when I am around an arrogant, aggressive type of man I find that I crave him. I want to be near him, to hear his voice, to see his smile. Make him smile. I want to do little things like fetch him drinks, curl up at his feet and listen to him tell stories or just watch him. I want to be within reach so that he can reach out and touch my hair, settle his hand onto the back of my neck. I want to sit quietly as he caresses my throat, pets my hair, and talks to his friends. I want to go to restaurants and when I cannot decide what I want, be able to tell him what I am considering so that he can tell me what to order.
But I can live without those things if he will at least take the initiative sexually. Tell me that he wants me, tell me that we're going to the bedroom now... grab me and pin me to a wall... Anything, so long as it leaves no room for doubt about his desire and affection for me.
A man who cannot do at least that for me, I can't help but view him as weak. Pathetic, even. I feel as much affection toward him as I do my vibrator, which is to say... I begin to consider him a temporary accessory to be used until I find something that better suits my tastes. Batteries are cheap, that type of man is a dime a dozen.
I think I've watched too many John Wayne movies...
29 August, 2008
Still more D/S musings
Some questions that I was asked about the topic, and my responses.
I have a great deal more to say soon, once I've organized my thoughts.
Anyway, onward:
1: are you looking for a purely sexual sub role, or does your submissiveness involve more than just your sexual role.
Partially its sex. Primarily, though, I've found that I most enjoy the mental/psychological aspect when it is done right... I do have one friend that I mostly get to talk to online who knows me well enough to play that up, he keeps me hungry for him, always eager to please him when we do have a chance to spend time together, he always teases me with the idea that maybe the next time I'll get more out of it... Even when there are months between our visits, he can still make me wet just by telling me he wishes I was on my knees before him, or he's in a mood where if I were there with him he'd have his hand wrapped in my hair... When we're together all he has to do is look at me and smirk just a little and I'm instantly horny and impatient for an opportunity to sneak away to some dark corner together... We've never had sex, he's never given me an orgasm... though I've come close to it while giving him blowjobs. He teases me with the thought that eventually he'll get around to taking it further, and we both know that probably won't ever happen but even that doesn't spoil the game... Its all about the mindfuck.
2: what is your level of experience in the sub role if any
Very minor... Some via the internet, some mindgames played with friends that know me well enough to know how to stay under my skin. I tease myself by playing subbie to people who don't know I'm doing it. A friend who liked to tease and joke about my being his concubine, sending me to fetch him drinks, letting me kneel at his feet... he has no interest in D/s but was willing to play those little games with me because he knew they made me happy. Things like that. Low level games played with people I trust who, while not Dominant or into the lifestyle, were willing to play with it if only to see how far I would be willing to go for them.
I have been whipped, shocked, cut, set on fire.. I've gotten to play rough, been bitten and bruised. I've been handcuffed, been led around on a collar and leash though neither were in sexual ways.
I've never had a Dom, never been officially trained... I've played at it, but not had anyone who really knew what they were doing to guide me through it. I've networked with subs to learn what it was like for them, what drew them, how/why it made them happy... I've talked to Dom's about the same topics. I've wandered a lot of websites and taken a lot of advice on reading material.
I've never had a Dom because, frankly, the ones I've talked to who were interested wanted to move too quickly. They were not interested in taking the time to get to know me as a person, to let me do the same with them. They were not willing to take the time to earn my trust, learn my limits and boundaries. They made no effort to earn my trust or respect. Instead, they wanted me to dive head-first into the experience with no preparation, no concession to my comfort levels, no effort on their part to reassure me about my own safety. Because they were not willing to consider my needs, I rejected their offers. I would rather pine for something that seems unattainable than put myself in danger by taking the risk on someone who obviously doesn't care about me or they'd be willing to do those things without my having to insist.
3: what of the following are you willing to be trained for:
bondage, yes
discipline, yes
humiliation, No. I had enough of that from a fairly recent abusive relationship
verbal abuse, No, again... abusive ex boyfriend who loved to do this
water sports, No. I have no interest in anything involving bodily functions
spankings, Possibly. I've enjoyed the occasional hard slap, but never been spanked
nipple play (clamps) I'm willing to give it a chance, though my nipples are very sensitive...
rough sex, Yes.
voyeurism, Yes.
anal sex, Absolutely Not. This is my one dealbreaker, nothing anal.
blindfolds. Yes.
you may add to this list if necessary. There are a lot of things that I'm curious about as I learn about them, but few that I would specifically ask for. I am willing to at least consider anything except anal and those things involving bodily functions. Consider, as in I have the right of veto if I decide I don't like it. There are some things that I do specifically want to eventually try, but things that I will not offer or agree to until comfort levels have been reached (violence, rape play, etc)
4: what if any of the above is off limits. Anal, water sports, scat, bestiality. Especially Anal though. Nothing goes near my ass. No fingers, tongue, cock, toys, absolutely nothing. I've had a couple of ex's who essentially tried to rape my ass, unlubed, thinking that if they "surprised" me I'd get into it and forgive them. Not only do I not find it appealing in the slightest, but due to these traumatic incididents, they are an instant turn-off, mood-kill, deal breaker. If my partner tries to push the issue, I will end the involvement. If they cannot respect my feelings on this subject than they cannot be trusted.
I have a great deal more to say soon, once I've organized my thoughts.
Anyway, onward:
1: are you looking for a purely sexual sub role, or does your submissiveness involve more than just your sexual role.
Partially its sex. Primarily, though, I've found that I most enjoy the mental/psychological aspect when it is done right... I do have one friend that I mostly get to talk to online who knows me well enough to play that up, he keeps me hungry for him, always eager to please him when we do have a chance to spend time together, he always teases me with the idea that maybe the next time I'll get more out of it... Even when there are months between our visits, he can still make me wet just by telling me he wishes I was on my knees before him, or he's in a mood where if I were there with him he'd have his hand wrapped in my hair... When we're together all he has to do is look at me and smirk just a little and I'm instantly horny and impatient for an opportunity to sneak away to some dark corner together... We've never had sex, he's never given me an orgasm... though I've come close to it while giving him blowjobs. He teases me with the thought that eventually he'll get around to taking it further, and we both know that probably won't ever happen but even that doesn't spoil the game... Its all about the mindfuck.
2: what is your level of experience in the sub role if any
Very minor... Some via the internet, some mindgames played with friends that know me well enough to know how to stay under my skin. I tease myself by playing subbie to people who don't know I'm doing it. A friend who liked to tease and joke about my being his concubine, sending me to fetch him drinks, letting me kneel at his feet... he has no interest in D/s but was willing to play those little games with me because he knew they made me happy. Things like that. Low level games played with people I trust who, while not Dominant or into the lifestyle, were willing to play with it if only to see how far I would be willing to go for them.
I have been whipped, shocked, cut, set on fire.. I've gotten to play rough, been bitten and bruised. I've been handcuffed, been led around on a collar and leash though neither were in sexual ways.
I've never had a Dom, never been officially trained... I've played at it, but not had anyone who really knew what they were doing to guide me through it. I've networked with subs to learn what it was like for them, what drew them, how/why it made them happy... I've talked to Dom's about the same topics. I've wandered a lot of websites and taken a lot of advice on reading material.
I've never had a Dom because, frankly, the ones I've talked to who were interested wanted to move too quickly. They were not interested in taking the time to get to know me as a person, to let me do the same with them. They were not willing to take the time to earn my trust, learn my limits and boundaries. They made no effort to earn my trust or respect. Instead, they wanted me to dive head-first into the experience with no preparation, no concession to my comfort levels, no effort on their part to reassure me about my own safety. Because they were not willing to consider my needs, I rejected their offers. I would rather pine for something that seems unattainable than put myself in danger by taking the risk on someone who obviously doesn't care about me or they'd be willing to do those things without my having to insist.
3: what of the following are you willing to be trained for:
bondage, yes
discipline, yes
humiliation, No. I had enough of that from a fairly recent abusive relationship
verbal abuse, No, again... abusive ex boyfriend who loved to do this
water sports, No. I have no interest in anything involving bodily functions
spankings, Possibly. I've enjoyed the occasional hard slap, but never been spanked
nipple play (clamps) I'm willing to give it a chance, though my nipples are very sensitive...
rough sex, Yes.
voyeurism, Yes.
anal sex, Absolutely Not. This is my one dealbreaker, nothing anal.
blindfolds. Yes.
you may add to this list if necessary. There are a lot of things that I'm curious about as I learn about them, but few that I would specifically ask for. I am willing to at least consider anything except anal and those things involving bodily functions. Consider, as in I have the right of veto if I decide I don't like it. There are some things that I do specifically want to eventually try, but things that I will not offer or agree to until comfort levels have been reached (violence, rape play, etc)
4: what if any of the above is off limits. Anal, water sports, scat, bestiality. Especially Anal though. Nothing goes near my ass. No fingers, tongue, cock, toys, absolutely nothing. I've had a couple of ex's who essentially tried to rape my ass, unlubed, thinking that if they "surprised" me I'd get into it and forgive them. Not only do I not find it appealing in the slightest, but due to these traumatic incididents, they are an instant turn-off, mood-kill, deal breaker. If my partner tries to push the issue, I will end the involvement. If they cannot respect my feelings on this subject than they cannot be trusted.
More D/s Musings
Years ago, I had a not-thing with this guy. Most weekends I'd end up snuggled up on his couch watching a movie that we would eventually forget about while we fooled around, I'd end up going down on him, and afterward we'd go back to watching tv.
I was perfectly happy with this situation because I enjoyed the circumstances, enjoyed the small ways he would give me instructions or occasionally even orders, enjoyed the way he would hold me afterward and pet my hair.
This lasted for almost 2 years, and very few people knew about it, that was part of the fun.
My favorite part was that he would hold my hand while I slept.
This not-thing was also part of what made me think that I was the submissive type, because I took so much pleasure from the mere fact that I was giving HIM pleasure. We never had sex, I never asked, or even wanted to. All I wanted was to be allowed to please him, after a while it got to the point where would have cravings for the taste of him. I never had any thought of or desire for orgasms, it was the sensation of being aroused that brought me pleasure... Its the same still, I prefer arousal to orgasm, the knowledge that I am the reason that my partner is enjoying themself. I enjoy the slow fade of coming down after being turned on, I enjoy it more than the big bang of actually getting off. It is only... well, not quite rarely, but still not often... that I feel the actual desire to climax, instead preferring to stop just short of that point. Far better the tension of being just shy of that point, then slowly finding my way back to calm again.
I only sometimes enjoy oral sex (receiving, I love to give), generally when my partner understands that this is part of foreplay. Most men basically try to force an orgasm out of me, getting impatient and frustrated, taking it personally, not understanding that it is my preference and not some failing on their part. Because of this, I get bored. I refuse to fake it, its pointless... why reinforce their misunderstanding? Maybe I'm not the only woman that is like this, but for all intents and purposes during the moments of our interaction... I should be, shouldn't I? They claim the attempts to give me orgasms against my will ("You just need someone who can do it right, that's all!") are because they want Me to feel good, yet they can't be bothered to pay attention to what DOES make me feel good. Trust me, if I want it... I'll ask for it.
I could never give up men because, not being into oral or caring about orgasms, I don't think I'd be able to adequately please a woman... hence, I've never traveled below the belt. I tried once, fingering a girl... I had somehow not yet discovered what the clit was for, so my entire attempt involved me sticking my thumb inside and wiggling it around. I didn't realize until years later how stupid that was, and I still have to resist the urge to apologize to the girl in question because ohmygod what was I thinking? I can't think it was all that pleasant, and I'm not surprised that things never progressed to that point again. However, because of this, I've yet to find a courage to experiment further. They say that only a woman can truly know how to please another woman, as she knows from personal experience what works. But thats far from true. 1) not being interested in orgasms, I doubt I'd have the slightest clue how to go about giving them. and 2) What about that whole thing where everyone has different preferences and such? Hmm? anyway, I feel like a fraud when I say I'm bisexual. I admire women, I find them attractive, I'm attracted to and aroused by them... But I don't know that I'll ever have sex with one because I'd be too embarrassed to explain my shyness when it comes to things below the equator. So that makes me one of those bi girls I despise, the ones who make out with other girls in public because it turns guys on.
Supposedly I should be frigid, since I don't care about orgasms... But I'm actually a bit of a nympho. I want sex, I enjoy sex. I enjoy the fact that my partner is enjoying sex. It all makes perfect sense to me. But apparently it would make me a bad sub, because part of the Dom's job is to give the sub pleasure, get them off. But... there's got to be more than one type of sub. I mean, there is, there are dozens of types. All the varieties of 24/7 subs that range from the housewife who keeps Sir's house clean and waits for him to come home so that she can please him... to the pony girl who wears long skirts in public to hide the crop sticking out of her ass. There's the subs who want to be beaten and abused, the ones who even enjoy being flat out degraded, the ones who live for the opportunity to service their masters... Or the casual sub who plays once a week on date night, or occasionally surprises their partner by bringing out the kit and asking to be tied up.
Me, I fall somewhere in the low range, I think. And yeah, that could be because I haven't experienced anything to know what I like yet... But I have a general idea, what sorts of things interest me. I definately don't want to be degraded or beaten, I won't do as I'm told if its something I'm not interested in doing. I won't use a safe word because I believe that No, in all situations, should be accepted as meaning NO. (Single exception, rape play... But thats something that should only be done with a partner who knows you well enough to be certain of your limits and boundaries.) The idea of spanking doesn't appeal to me, but being flogged across the back... Knife play, done right, absolutely... But I'd only accept being tied up if it was rigged in a way that meant I could escape easily, and my single incident with the law was enough to prove I'm not as into handcuffs as I thought I might be. Being ordered around appeals as a game, not as a lifestyle (In the Secretary "You may have 4 peas" and her giggling as she complies... but not in a situation where I'm genuinely meant to obey or face punishment). The idea of being punished for naughtiness, yes. The idea of being punished for correction? No.
I enjoy seeing the marks, being bitten, scratched, bruised... but never beaten, pain is enjoyable only to a certain level. I want to feel hands pressing against my throat, but not wrapped around it. I want to find that moment where the darkness begins to rush inward and the world becomes static, then quickly clears away again... I do not want to lose consciousness, or be in danger of actual choking. Spanking, no. Slap on the ass, yes. And never, under any circumstances, even if they're sure I might like it once it happens, anything remotely Anal related. I want to play with toys, go out in public wearing a vibrator contraption with my partner in control of the remote, but not in embarrassing situations. Crowded nightclub or bar, Absolutely. Quiet restaurant, not a chance. I want to enjoy the surprise of the toy being switched on, not worry about whether anyone else can hear it. And I don't want to be made to orgasm in public, or in front of people. I just want to go through the evening in a constant state of arousal, knowing that when we are alone... things will get truly interesting. Anticipation building until that moment when the door closes, the lock turns, and a trail of clothing is left behind in search of the couch, chair, or appropriate surface. I'll wear what clothing I'm told to, but only if its something I'm comfortable in. And DDD Breasts do not go out in public without a bra, I'm simply not comfortable with it. I'll wear a short skirt and a thong in case there's opportunity to find a dark, secluded area to play in... But I will not expose myself in front of strangers.
The idea of kneeling beside my master's chair, being petted or having my hair played with, allowed to lean my head against his thigh... and being told to fetch drinks or do small tasks, absolutely. The idea of sitting naked in the dark, blindfolded, waiting or my orders? Mildly. The idea of following a step behind, eyes kept downcast, existing only for the moments when orders are given? Not so much, not as more than a game. The idea of being woken in the middle of the night to pleasure my partner, or interrupted at some mundane task to go to the bedroom, oh very yes.... But the idea of being interrupted when I'm busy with something, ordered onto my knees and expected to perform, not so much. Being a slave? No. Living and waiting for the moment when I'm wanted? Fuck no, I've done that most of my life and it hasn't been a pleasant experience. The idea of being pinned to the wall and kissed thoroughly? Oh gods yes... (There is still a man I wish I had said yes to in those circumstances, but I never thought he'd have done it if he'd been sober at the time... Damn my occasional morals...).
I want to be wanted, to be reminded that I'm wanted. I want someone to be tender and gentle and loving. I want to be worshiped, but not fawned over. I want someone to do things for me because they know it pleases me, of their own volition otherwise it is meaningless. I want to be the one that pleases them, because I'm the one they want, and because they understand that doing so pleases me. I want to be known, physically and otherwise, my limits and boundaries tested and carefully expanded. At my pace. I want there to be a hint of a request when an order is given, and an alternate option given on those occasions that I refuse. When I do something wrong, I want to be taught rather than reprimanded. When I want to speak, I want to be listened to, heard... And I want to listen raptly as my partner speaks, even if it continues for hours on end... But I will not be lectured, bullied, or told that my way is wrong or that it is not good enough. I want to explore things at my pace, in privacy so that I can work through the shyness of learning something new. I want to be asked for my preferences and opinions, and told or ordered only to do those things that my partner knows for a certainty that I will want to do. I want to go only so far, because beyond that point I begin to feel used, resentful, and ultimately betrayed.
I want to play, not be used.
Some say that because I have limits, things I will not do, some that I will under no circumstances even consider... I'm not a sub, I'm too opinionated, too independent. I say, maybe I'm a challenge and an adventure, an exploration in possibilities and potential. Maybe, like being bisexual, I'm a fraud who just likes to be seen as a sub... Kneel at the feet of someone who will tell me to fetch a beer. I say? If you feel that way, you're obviously not meant to be the one who tames me.
I was perfectly happy with this situation because I enjoyed the circumstances, enjoyed the small ways he would give me instructions or occasionally even orders, enjoyed the way he would hold me afterward and pet my hair.
This lasted for almost 2 years, and very few people knew about it, that was part of the fun.
My favorite part was that he would hold my hand while I slept.
This not-thing was also part of what made me think that I was the submissive type, because I took so much pleasure from the mere fact that I was giving HIM pleasure. We never had sex, I never asked, or even wanted to. All I wanted was to be allowed to please him, after a while it got to the point where would have cravings for the taste of him. I never had any thought of or desire for orgasms, it was the sensation of being aroused that brought me pleasure... Its the same still, I prefer arousal to orgasm, the knowledge that I am the reason that my partner is enjoying themself. I enjoy the slow fade of coming down after being turned on, I enjoy it more than the big bang of actually getting off. It is only... well, not quite rarely, but still not often... that I feel the actual desire to climax, instead preferring to stop just short of that point. Far better the tension of being just shy of that point, then slowly finding my way back to calm again.
I only sometimes enjoy oral sex (receiving, I love to give), generally when my partner understands that this is part of foreplay. Most men basically try to force an orgasm out of me, getting impatient and frustrated, taking it personally, not understanding that it is my preference and not some failing on their part. Because of this, I get bored. I refuse to fake it, its pointless... why reinforce their misunderstanding? Maybe I'm not the only woman that is like this, but for all intents and purposes during the moments of our interaction... I should be, shouldn't I? They claim the attempts to give me orgasms against my will ("You just need someone who can do it right, that's all!") are because they want Me to feel good, yet they can't be bothered to pay attention to what DOES make me feel good. Trust me, if I want it... I'll ask for it.
I could never give up men because, not being into oral or caring about orgasms, I don't think I'd be able to adequately please a woman... hence, I've never traveled below the belt. I tried once, fingering a girl... I had somehow not yet discovered what the clit was for, so my entire attempt involved me sticking my thumb inside and wiggling it around. I didn't realize until years later how stupid that was, and I still have to resist the urge to apologize to the girl in question because ohmygod what was I thinking? I can't think it was all that pleasant, and I'm not surprised that things never progressed to that point again. However, because of this, I've yet to find a courage to experiment further. They say that only a woman can truly know how to please another woman, as she knows from personal experience what works. But thats far from true. 1) not being interested in orgasms, I doubt I'd have the slightest clue how to go about giving them. and 2) What about that whole thing where everyone has different preferences and such? Hmm? anyway, I feel like a fraud when I say I'm bisexual. I admire women, I find them attractive, I'm attracted to and aroused by them... But I don't know that I'll ever have sex with one because I'd be too embarrassed to explain my shyness when it comes to things below the equator. So that makes me one of those bi girls I despise, the ones who make out with other girls in public because it turns guys on.
Supposedly I should be frigid, since I don't care about orgasms... But I'm actually a bit of a nympho. I want sex, I enjoy sex. I enjoy the fact that my partner is enjoying sex. It all makes perfect sense to me. But apparently it would make me a bad sub, because part of the Dom's job is to give the sub pleasure, get them off. But... there's got to be more than one type of sub. I mean, there is, there are dozens of types. All the varieties of 24/7 subs that range from the housewife who keeps Sir's house clean and waits for him to come home so that she can please him... to the pony girl who wears long skirts in public to hide the crop sticking out of her ass. There's the subs who want to be beaten and abused, the ones who even enjoy being flat out degraded, the ones who live for the opportunity to service their masters... Or the casual sub who plays once a week on date night, or occasionally surprises their partner by bringing out the kit and asking to be tied up.
Me, I fall somewhere in the low range, I think. And yeah, that could be because I haven't experienced anything to know what I like yet... But I have a general idea, what sorts of things interest me. I definately don't want to be degraded or beaten, I won't do as I'm told if its something I'm not interested in doing. I won't use a safe word because I believe that No, in all situations, should be accepted as meaning NO. (Single exception, rape play... But thats something that should only be done with a partner who knows you well enough to be certain of your limits and boundaries.) The idea of spanking doesn't appeal to me, but being flogged across the back... Knife play, done right, absolutely... But I'd only accept being tied up if it was rigged in a way that meant I could escape easily, and my single incident with the law was enough to prove I'm not as into handcuffs as I thought I might be. Being ordered around appeals as a game, not as a lifestyle (In the Secretary "You may have 4 peas" and her giggling as she complies... but not in a situation where I'm genuinely meant to obey or face punishment). The idea of being punished for naughtiness, yes. The idea of being punished for correction? No.
I enjoy seeing the marks, being bitten, scratched, bruised... but never beaten, pain is enjoyable only to a certain level. I want to feel hands pressing against my throat, but not wrapped around it. I want to find that moment where the darkness begins to rush inward and the world becomes static, then quickly clears away again... I do not want to lose consciousness, or be in danger of actual choking. Spanking, no. Slap on the ass, yes. And never, under any circumstances, even if they're sure I might like it once it happens, anything remotely Anal related. I want to play with toys, go out in public wearing a vibrator contraption with my partner in control of the remote, but not in embarrassing situations. Crowded nightclub or bar, Absolutely. Quiet restaurant, not a chance. I want to enjoy the surprise of the toy being switched on, not worry about whether anyone else can hear it. And I don't want to be made to orgasm in public, or in front of people. I just want to go through the evening in a constant state of arousal, knowing that when we are alone... things will get truly interesting. Anticipation building until that moment when the door closes, the lock turns, and a trail of clothing is left behind in search of the couch, chair, or appropriate surface. I'll wear what clothing I'm told to, but only if its something I'm comfortable in. And DDD Breasts do not go out in public without a bra, I'm simply not comfortable with it. I'll wear a short skirt and a thong in case there's opportunity to find a dark, secluded area to play in... But I will not expose myself in front of strangers.
The idea of kneeling beside my master's chair, being petted or having my hair played with, allowed to lean my head against his thigh... and being told to fetch drinks or do small tasks, absolutely. The idea of sitting naked in the dark, blindfolded, waiting or my orders? Mildly. The idea of following a step behind, eyes kept downcast, existing only for the moments when orders are given? Not so much, not as more than a game. The idea of being woken in the middle of the night to pleasure my partner, or interrupted at some mundane task to go to the bedroom, oh very yes.... But the idea of being interrupted when I'm busy with something, ordered onto my knees and expected to perform, not so much. Being a slave? No. Living and waiting for the moment when I'm wanted? Fuck no, I've done that most of my life and it hasn't been a pleasant experience. The idea of being pinned to the wall and kissed thoroughly? Oh gods yes... (There is still a man I wish I had said yes to in those circumstances, but I never thought he'd have done it if he'd been sober at the time... Damn my occasional morals...).
I want to be wanted, to be reminded that I'm wanted. I want someone to be tender and gentle and loving. I want to be worshiped, but not fawned over. I want someone to do things for me because they know it pleases me, of their own volition otherwise it is meaningless. I want to be the one that pleases them, because I'm the one they want, and because they understand that doing so pleases me. I want to be known, physically and otherwise, my limits and boundaries tested and carefully expanded. At my pace. I want there to be a hint of a request when an order is given, and an alternate option given on those occasions that I refuse. When I do something wrong, I want to be taught rather than reprimanded. When I want to speak, I want to be listened to, heard... And I want to listen raptly as my partner speaks, even if it continues for hours on end... But I will not be lectured, bullied, or told that my way is wrong or that it is not good enough. I want to explore things at my pace, in privacy so that I can work through the shyness of learning something new. I want to be asked for my preferences and opinions, and told or ordered only to do those things that my partner knows for a certainty that I will want to do. I want to go only so far, because beyond that point I begin to feel used, resentful, and ultimately betrayed.
I want to play, not be used.
Some say that because I have limits, things I will not do, some that I will under no circumstances even consider... I'm not a sub, I'm too opinionated, too independent. I say, maybe I'm a challenge and an adventure, an exploration in possibilities and potential. Maybe, like being bisexual, I'm a fraud who just likes to be seen as a sub... Kneel at the feet of someone who will tell me to fetch a beer. I say? If you feel that way, you're obviously not meant to be the one who tames me.
D/s Musings
Why is it that every guy I find who claims to be Dominant either turns out to be a switch who wants me to Dom for him... or just never follows through, effectively proving himself All Talk. Why is it that so many people can't understand the concept of me being a person who simply cannot Dom? Socially, yes, because I don't put up with shit and I don't waste time with polite lies... but privately, I have no interest in taking control and to be completely honest I'm not even comfortable giving orders (unless they're flat out doing something wrong, of course). Having to be socially dominant is something that I hate doing, but being someone who prefers to be Alpha Female.. its unavoidable.
Having to be sexually dominant is just... 1) it holds no interest or attraction for me, I get nothing out of it, plus I feel awkward and downright uncomfortable when someone tries to talk me into it... 2) When forced or guilted (which is more common) to take the role, my antipathy for playing the part is such that I find myself losing all respect for and attraction to the person. Yes, some compromise is necessary for a healthy relationship, but some people have boundaries and limits that they cannot change even for someone they truly care about. Telling me that I have to learn how to take the role will only make me angry.
I don't think there's any direct correlation, but to me... Its like saying that even though I hate the mess and discomfort of period sex (yeah, lets shove something up there while it already feels like a porcupine is doing the disco!) and am turned off to the point of being mildly disgusted/nauseated at the idea of anal sex (me participating, I could care less what others enjoy)... I should do those things just because my partner is turned on by them. I don't know what sense that makes except that to me it seems unreasonable to expect someone to do something they are completely turned off by. Now, if it were something that I was curious, or slightly interested in, of course. But otherwise? If my partner was patently uninterested in something, I wouldn't ask or expect them to do it. For example, yes... I'm a bit of a gasper. Not to the point of actually wanting to be choked out, and I'm not likely to try hanging myself any time soon... but the pressure of a palm against my throat at the right moment is enough to just send me over.
I've thought a lot, long and hard even, trying to understand why it is that I'm so opposed to playing the dom. People keep telling me that even as a good sub, I'd be willing to do it to make my other happy... but it just doesn't' work like that for me.
Last night I had a couple of conversations that helped me understand.
One was with a guy that I've known for over 10 years now, who I know has always been interested... and who I'd always thought of as someone I could go to eventually... That I could trust and would eventually go to... Until he told me that he's now realized that he's also submissive. Which came as a shock until I thought about it. Really, he's very like me in that everyone assumes he'd be dominant because he tends to be an imposing and even intimidating figure publicly. So why couldn't he, like I, prefer to take the opposite role in private?
Anyway, it was part of a long string of disappointments in that area. Every time I've found someone who says that they're dominant... one of 3 things will happen. 1, the most common. They turn out to be a switch and want me to be as well. 2, They simply fail to follow through. Or 3, my least favorite... They want to immediately jump into ordering me around without taking time to get to know me, my limits and boundaries, or earn my trust.
The second conversation I had last night was more vague, and just sort of accidentally led to a realization. I could probably Dom a woman, and get into it as things progressed... Yet still not a man, and why? Because. I want my men to be Manly and my women to be Feminine.
And there it is. My men have to be confident and assertive, willing to go for what they want... I'm simply not attracted to or interested in the ones who can't be that way. I can't handle “puppy dog” types who just want to follow me around and do whatever I say. I cannot respect a man who won't debate, or even argue with me occasionally. I am not attracted to someone who can't be assertive and confident, who won't occasionally pin me to a wall without warning and kiss me senseless... **GRIN**
Conversely, I cannot stand a man who is overconfident or demanding. And while I like my women to be somewhat feminine, I don't really get along with the Really feminine types. I don't wear makeup, I don't get the point of fashion.
So, I'm catch 22... but I'm used to that :)
Having to be sexually dominant is just... 1) it holds no interest or attraction for me, I get nothing out of it, plus I feel awkward and downright uncomfortable when someone tries to talk me into it... 2) When forced or guilted (which is more common) to take the role, my antipathy for playing the part is such that I find myself losing all respect for and attraction to the person. Yes, some compromise is necessary for a healthy relationship, but some people have boundaries and limits that they cannot change even for someone they truly care about. Telling me that I have to learn how to take the role will only make me angry.
I don't think there's any direct correlation, but to me... Its like saying that even though I hate the mess and discomfort of period sex (yeah, lets shove something up there while it already feels like a porcupine is doing the disco!) and am turned off to the point of being mildly disgusted/nauseated at the idea of anal sex (me participating, I could care less what others enjoy)... I should do those things just because my partner is turned on by them. I don't know what sense that makes except that to me it seems unreasonable to expect someone to do something they are completely turned off by. Now, if it were something that I was curious, or slightly interested in, of course. But otherwise? If my partner was patently uninterested in something, I wouldn't ask or expect them to do it. For example, yes... I'm a bit of a gasper. Not to the point of actually wanting to be choked out, and I'm not likely to try hanging myself any time soon... but the pressure of a palm against my throat at the right moment is enough to just send me over.
I've thought a lot, long and hard even, trying to understand why it is that I'm so opposed to playing the dom. People keep telling me that even as a good sub, I'd be willing to do it to make my other happy... but it just doesn't' work like that for me.
Last night I had a couple of conversations that helped me understand.
One was with a guy that I've known for over 10 years now, who I know has always been interested... and who I'd always thought of as someone I could go to eventually... That I could trust and would eventually go to... Until he told me that he's now realized that he's also submissive. Which came as a shock until I thought about it. Really, he's very like me in that everyone assumes he'd be dominant because he tends to be an imposing and even intimidating figure publicly. So why couldn't he, like I, prefer to take the opposite role in private?
Anyway, it was part of a long string of disappointments in that area. Every time I've found someone who says that they're dominant... one of 3 things will happen. 1, the most common. They turn out to be a switch and want me to be as well. 2, They simply fail to follow through. Or 3, my least favorite... They want to immediately jump into ordering me around without taking time to get to know me, my limits and boundaries, or earn my trust.
The second conversation I had last night was more vague, and just sort of accidentally led to a realization. I could probably Dom a woman, and get into it as things progressed... Yet still not a man, and why? Because. I want my men to be Manly and my women to be Feminine.
And there it is. My men have to be confident and assertive, willing to go for what they want... I'm simply not attracted to or interested in the ones who can't be that way. I can't handle “puppy dog” types who just want to follow me around and do whatever I say. I cannot respect a man who won't debate, or even argue with me occasionally. I am not attracted to someone who can't be assertive and confident, who won't occasionally pin me to a wall without warning and kiss me senseless... **GRIN**
Conversely, I cannot stand a man who is overconfident or demanding. And while I like my women to be somewhat feminine, I don't really get along with the Really feminine types. I don't wear makeup, I don't get the point of fashion.
So, I'm catch 22... but I'm used to that :)
"Their Plaything"
Whispers in darkness, She sighing softly as cloth slides away from skin, as lips caress newly exposed territory. Throat, shoulder blade, curve of breast and... Ahhhh, yes, lips closing around nipple, teeth scraping lightly at first as pressure is applied...
"Yeah..." A low voiced whisper of approval, Him lurking nearby with avid eyes... watching, waiting for his invitation to play.
Fingers touching, caressing, feeling... Here, at the peak of the other breast. There, now, teasing the inner crease of thigh. Up, brushing across parted lips. Over, tucking a lock of hair behind Her ear.
"Lower." comes the instruction, murmuring approval as His command is obeyed.
Palm cupping, holding something precious a moment before fingers slide between folds, dancing lightly across sensitive skin before moving away again.
"Tease." She whispers, hips shifting in invitation.
"Yes." my voice, distant in the haze of need, passion's hunger.
"Lower." His voice again.
Lips relinquish the captured peak and blaze a trail lower, ever obedient. Distracted before reaching His intended goal, traveling over the curve of hip with a trail of moist kisses. Bite here, not hard. Fingers moving, parting, revealing... as my eyes raise to meet Hers, and then His. The invitation is soft "Hold her."
He moves to the bed, leaning in for a kiss. First from you. Then from Her. Then, rearrangement as She leans back against him, his hands coming 'round from behind, fingers delving, parting, holding as requested...
Hands free, one claiming the curve of hip, the other toying lightly as I watch Her face. Tracing edges and lines, never slipping within, not even when another impatient shift of hip threatens. Nuzzling against his knuckles, kissing the back of his hand, then kissing Her in that place more intimate... Tongue flicking lightly for a moment before lips claim, then release. Experiment, tease, play...
Her voice soft, a whimper. Knowing she can feel his hardness against her, knowing he won't play without the invitation. Her hands taking hold, holding, a low almost growl "No teasing."
Obedient, fingers slipping within, tongue and lips dancing. Well taught, poetry of movement as her whimper becomes a pant, then a cry, hips bucking as His palms flatten against her belly, holding her in place. Not stopping until She does, then sitting up.
Wrist captured, not by Her... by Him. Together, without speaking, they move me into her place. Held down, him holding my wrists in his hands, his lips against my throat as he watches Her, commanding "Lower."
"Yeah..." A low voiced whisper of approval, Him lurking nearby with avid eyes... watching, waiting for his invitation to play.
Fingers touching, caressing, feeling... Here, at the peak of the other breast. There, now, teasing the inner crease of thigh. Up, brushing across parted lips. Over, tucking a lock of hair behind Her ear.
"Lower." comes the instruction, murmuring approval as His command is obeyed.
Palm cupping, holding something precious a moment before fingers slide between folds, dancing lightly across sensitive skin before moving away again.
"Tease." She whispers, hips shifting in invitation.
"Yes." my voice, distant in the haze of need, passion's hunger.
"Lower." His voice again.
Lips relinquish the captured peak and blaze a trail lower, ever obedient. Distracted before reaching His intended goal, traveling over the curve of hip with a trail of moist kisses. Bite here, not hard. Fingers moving, parting, revealing... as my eyes raise to meet Hers, and then His. The invitation is soft "Hold her."
He moves to the bed, leaning in for a kiss. First from you. Then from Her. Then, rearrangement as She leans back against him, his hands coming 'round from behind, fingers delving, parting, holding as requested...
Hands free, one claiming the curve of hip, the other toying lightly as I watch Her face. Tracing edges and lines, never slipping within, not even when another impatient shift of hip threatens. Nuzzling against his knuckles, kissing the back of his hand, then kissing Her in that place more intimate... Tongue flicking lightly for a moment before lips claim, then release. Experiment, tease, play...
Her voice soft, a whimper. Knowing she can feel his hardness against her, knowing he won't play without the invitation. Her hands taking hold, holding, a low almost growl "No teasing."
Obedient, fingers slipping within, tongue and lips dancing. Well taught, poetry of movement as her whimper becomes a pant, then a cry, hips bucking as His palms flatten against her belly, holding her in place. Not stopping until She does, then sitting up.
Wrist captured, not by Her... by Him. Together, without speaking, they move me into her place. Held down, him holding my wrists in his hands, his lips against my throat as he watches Her, commanding "Lower."
'3in1'
Her breath is soft across my cheek as I nuzzle closer, sliding my arm around her waist and lazily running nails along her spine. Her tiny sound of pleasure wakens Him, as his lips press for a moment against my shoulder. Words are murmured too softly to be understood by anything but tone of voice. Too exhausted for the moment to take action, small affectionate moments pass interchangeably amongst us. His teeth sinking into the place where shoulder meets neck. Her hand moving over His hip. My leg shifting between hers as I press closer. His body pressed more snugly against my back as he raises to one elbow leaning across to claim Her lips in a searing kiss. Me, sitting up to watch, hands moving over warm skin, playing lightly across sensitive areas. Her hand capturing mine, guiding so that together we are touching Him. He breaks their kiss long enough to take hold of me, tugging me so that for a moment I am straddled across His hips, then on the other side. She rises now, and across him it is our turn to kiss. For a moment the fires rise, and it seems perhaps we are not too tired, not yet sated after all... Then without discussion we settle again, Him in the middle now. She snuggles close against his one side and I the other, each of us stretching an arm across him waist to cup a palm against the other's hip. His arms wrap around us, his lips pressing first to one forehead, then the other as he whispers sleepy approval... She and I, our eyes meeting a moment, smile as he drifts away from us... but each feeling secure and adored, follow closely behind.
"Justine"
The words wouldn't come right.
She was staring off into the distance, her eyes taking on that blankness they took whenever the silence lasted too long between them. Her fingers against his arm had turned cold, and her grip on him had relaxed. Even as she waited for her answer, she was letting go, and that was the last thing that he wanted from her.
The problem was, with a girl like Justine, you simply couldn't come out and say things like that. You couldn't tell her that you loved her, that your every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of her, that she haunted your dreams. You couldn't tell her those things because she wouldn't believe them, and she would hate you for it.
It wasn't that Justine didn't know she was beautiful, or that she was unaware of the way her entrance into a room drew everyone's attention. She Knew that she was gorgeous and that a man would give anything for just a chance to be with her. She was more than aware of the effect her physical appearance had on the people around her, and she despised them for it.
Justine wanted to be loved for herself, because she as a person was appealing. Not because her hair was golden and felt like melted silk.
He knew these things, and he understood her need. She had explained it all to him over the phone, her honeyed voice travelling the miles between them and drawing the very heart from him. They had talked for almost a year over the internet before she would allow a phone conversation... And after that it was several months more before she would send him a picture.
Justine was everything that he wanted, and it had nothing to do with her beauty. He couldn't deny that he appreciated it, but it had nothing to do with why he wanted to be with her. He had developed an instant crush on her when she was nothing more than a girl on a keyboard several hundred miles away from him. Her caustic, often self-depreciating wit, her intelligent and animated conversation, her dark and sometimes disturbing humor...
"Do you remember, the first time I asked you for a picture? It was a couple of months after we met in the chat room... You sent me an autopsy photograph from one of Jack the Ripper's victims. The first time I asked for a phone number you gave me the line to a support group for compulsive masturbators... When I freaked out because I thought I'd bombed my finals, you told me to be glad it wasn't something like Driver's Education. For easter you sent me a valentines day card, for Valentines Day you sent me Halloween candy. When I agonized about breaking up with Anna, you sent me a dozen roses with a smiley face balloon."
Justine inclined her head towad him slightly, showing that he had her attention, but did not turn toward or in any other way acknowledge that he had even spoken. He knew from experience that she wouldn't turn to him until he had answered her question in the way that she hoped to be answered. Instinct told him that, if he failed to convince her of the reality of his feelings, she would get out of the car and walk away without looking back, he would never see her again.
He was filled with a sense of desperation.
"You want to know why I love you?" He waited for a moment, but there was no response. He was buying time, trying to prod his thoughts into some acceptable semblance of coherency.
"Yes, it is because you are beautiful. But I saw your beauty long before I saw your face. I saw it in the way you phrased certain types of questions. On the one year anniversary of the night we met online, you sent me a burned CD that included Lorenna McKennit's rendition of the Lady of Shallot. The rest of the cd was rock, some punk, a couple of country songs, then out of nowhere... This voice singing of such sorrow and loneliness, I could see the Lady risking everything for one good look at the great Knight Lancelot, giving up everything for that one glimpse of Camelot. It was haunting, I found myself listening to the song on repeat, I found a copy of the poem online, I caught myself wondering at odd moments whether it was Worth it, all that the Lady had lost..."
He smiled, laying one hand over her cold fingers, giving her what warmth he could.
"I started to think of you that way, a Lady trapped in this life she couldn't stand, lost in dreams of something she couldn't touch. Everything you told me about your family, their expecations of you, your own hopes for the future... When you speak of it your voice takes on this tone, like a child wishing on stars they know they can't reach... It makes me want to hold and protect you."
"I realized that I loved you the night you called me up at 3am to turn on the television and sit on the phone with you while we both watched the Princess Bride. That was a week before you sent me a real picture of yourself, six months before we met the first time. I told my roommate that I was in love with a girl I'd met on the internet and he told me I was insane, there was no way I could love someone I'd never met. He realized I'd dumped Anna because I didn't feel half the connection with her that I do with you."
He scooted a little closer to her, letting his voice fall to a whisper. "I can give you hundreds of tiny reasons, details, things you've said and we've done together, and all of those add up to why I can't imagine a life that doesn't include you... But I can't give you a clear cut reason Why... I just love you... and the rest doesn't matter. Distance and time we can deal with, if you wanted me to I would move anywhere you wanted to go... Just on the off chance that I'll end up spending the rest of my life there with you."
It wasn't enough, she deserved something more... Maybe it would be better if she walked away and never looked back. Maybe she could find the guy who would spontaneously compose a poem to perfectly describe the inner beauty that eclipsed any mere physical attractiveness... He just wasn't capable of it. He'd scraped the bottom of the barrel here, and he couldn't do much now but pray that she understood everything behind the words as much as what was actually said.
Justine gave a soft sigh, the cold air making her breath a puff of white that hung in front of her like a thought bubble. She shifted in her seat, and his heart stilled. He wasn't sure it would start beating again if she opened the door and climbed out of the car.
Justine shifted again, her eyes closing, and turned into his arms, pressing her cheek against the rough weave of his sweater. His heart kicked up again, pounding so hard and so loud in his ears that he almost didn't hear her softly whispered "Thank you."
She was staring off into the distance, her eyes taking on that blankness they took whenever the silence lasted too long between them. Her fingers against his arm had turned cold, and her grip on him had relaxed. Even as she waited for her answer, she was letting go, and that was the last thing that he wanted from her.
The problem was, with a girl like Justine, you simply couldn't come out and say things like that. You couldn't tell her that you loved her, that your every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of her, that she haunted your dreams. You couldn't tell her those things because she wouldn't believe them, and she would hate you for it.
It wasn't that Justine didn't know she was beautiful, or that she was unaware of the way her entrance into a room drew everyone's attention. She Knew that she was gorgeous and that a man would give anything for just a chance to be with her. She was more than aware of the effect her physical appearance had on the people around her, and she despised them for it.
Justine wanted to be loved for herself, because she as a person was appealing. Not because her hair was golden and felt like melted silk.
He knew these things, and he understood her need. She had explained it all to him over the phone, her honeyed voice travelling the miles between them and drawing the very heart from him. They had talked for almost a year over the internet before she would allow a phone conversation... And after that it was several months more before she would send him a picture.
Justine was everything that he wanted, and it had nothing to do with her beauty. He couldn't deny that he appreciated it, but it had nothing to do with why he wanted to be with her. He had developed an instant crush on her when she was nothing more than a girl on a keyboard several hundred miles away from him. Her caustic, often self-depreciating wit, her intelligent and animated conversation, her dark and sometimes disturbing humor...
"Do you remember, the first time I asked you for a picture? It was a couple of months after we met in the chat room... You sent me an autopsy photograph from one of Jack the Ripper's victims. The first time I asked for a phone number you gave me the line to a support group for compulsive masturbators... When I freaked out because I thought I'd bombed my finals, you told me to be glad it wasn't something like Driver's Education. For easter you sent me a valentines day card, for Valentines Day you sent me Halloween candy. When I agonized about breaking up with Anna, you sent me a dozen roses with a smiley face balloon."
Justine inclined her head towad him slightly, showing that he had her attention, but did not turn toward or in any other way acknowledge that he had even spoken. He knew from experience that she wouldn't turn to him until he had answered her question in the way that she hoped to be answered. Instinct told him that, if he failed to convince her of the reality of his feelings, she would get out of the car and walk away without looking back, he would never see her again.
He was filled with a sense of desperation.
"You want to know why I love you?" He waited for a moment, but there was no response. He was buying time, trying to prod his thoughts into some acceptable semblance of coherency.
"Yes, it is because you are beautiful. But I saw your beauty long before I saw your face. I saw it in the way you phrased certain types of questions. On the one year anniversary of the night we met online, you sent me a burned CD that included Lorenna McKennit's rendition of the Lady of Shallot. The rest of the cd was rock, some punk, a couple of country songs, then out of nowhere... This voice singing of such sorrow and loneliness, I could see the Lady risking everything for one good look at the great Knight Lancelot, giving up everything for that one glimpse of Camelot. It was haunting, I found myself listening to the song on repeat, I found a copy of the poem online, I caught myself wondering at odd moments whether it was Worth it, all that the Lady had lost..."
He smiled, laying one hand over her cold fingers, giving her what warmth he could.
"I started to think of you that way, a Lady trapped in this life she couldn't stand, lost in dreams of something she couldn't touch. Everything you told me about your family, their expecations of you, your own hopes for the future... When you speak of it your voice takes on this tone, like a child wishing on stars they know they can't reach... It makes me want to hold and protect you."
"I realized that I loved you the night you called me up at 3am to turn on the television and sit on the phone with you while we both watched the Princess Bride. That was a week before you sent me a real picture of yourself, six months before we met the first time. I told my roommate that I was in love with a girl I'd met on the internet and he told me I was insane, there was no way I could love someone I'd never met. He realized I'd dumped Anna because I didn't feel half the connection with her that I do with you."
He scooted a little closer to her, letting his voice fall to a whisper. "I can give you hundreds of tiny reasons, details, things you've said and we've done together, and all of those add up to why I can't imagine a life that doesn't include you... But I can't give you a clear cut reason Why... I just love you... and the rest doesn't matter. Distance and time we can deal with, if you wanted me to I would move anywhere you wanted to go... Just on the off chance that I'll end up spending the rest of my life there with you."
It wasn't enough, she deserved something more... Maybe it would be better if she walked away and never looked back. Maybe she could find the guy who would spontaneously compose a poem to perfectly describe the inner beauty that eclipsed any mere physical attractiveness... He just wasn't capable of it. He'd scraped the bottom of the barrel here, and he couldn't do much now but pray that she understood everything behind the words as much as what was actually said.
Justine gave a soft sigh, the cold air making her breath a puff of white that hung in front of her like a thought bubble. She shifted in her seat, and his heart stilled. He wasn't sure it would start beating again if she opened the door and climbed out of the car.
Justine shifted again, her eyes closing, and turned into his arms, pressing her cheek against the rough weave of his sweater. His heart kicked up again, pounding so hard and so loud in his ears that he almost didn't hear her softly whispered "Thank you."
snippet: Falling
"If I jumped, would you catch me?"
He smiled, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulled me closer. He whispered something into my hair as his lips pressed against my throat in a soft kiss. He knew that I was asking whether, if I fell, it would be a beginning or an end. His hand moved up my spine to rest at the back of my head, his thumb brushing back and forth across the fast-beating pulse. He knew, I knew that he did, and he knew that I knew he understood...
But he didn't answer.
He smiled, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulled me closer. He whispered something into my hair as his lips pressed against my throat in a soft kiss. He knew that I was asking whether, if I fell, it would be a beginning or an end. His hand moved up my spine to rest at the back of my head, his thumb brushing back and forth across the fast-beating pulse. He knew, I knew that he did, and he knew that I knew he understood...
But he didn't answer.
"Fallen Angel"
I crave violence.
I crave an outlet for the rage that builds within me every time I watch some disgustingly happy couple neck in the park, hold hands at the mall, kiss at a red light...
I crave expression, art... but art of a different sort... A way to show, to teach, to warn...
Yesterday I saw a woman walking alone after dark. She was so lovely. She wore a bemused smile, pausing every few moments to stare at a sparkling diamond on her left hand. The sparkle reflected in her eyes as she turned toward me. She was so alive, so vibrant with joy that even I, who knew nothing about her, realized that she had just become engaged. I expected her to shout at any moment, to scream to the heavens with her ecstasy at being loved, but...
She continued walking without comment, lost in her own world. Safe within the protective bubble of her news, excluding any who would share her pleasure. Her eyes slid over me without pause, her step didn't falter. She paid no more mind to me than she would a pile of excrement in her path, save avoidance on a level she was probably unaware of.
So I followed.
I fell into step behind her, dirty bare feet making no sound as I padded along in her wake. She hummed softly beneath her breath, unaware of the dirty fallen angel who moved between the worlds. My teeth ground together as I recognized the tune, a hymn I myself had once sang in this same bliss... This sure and certain knowledge that I was loved, and always would be. I had felt warm and safe, I had a purpose. I had known, beyond a doubt, that my love could never be proven false.
It wasn't. HIS was. HE turned from me. I stood at his side during the battle, I supported and loved him, I looked down and away from those who would turn their back’s on all that HE offered… and still he cast me out because I would not enter into the fray.
Nothing will change his mind, he will not heed my prayers, he does not take pleasure in my good works or deeds.
Mothers were calling children into the houses as we passed, it was going into that time of night where most families are sitting around a table, or gathered before the television. The streets become deserted and lonely, reminding any solitary soul who might wander by to peek into those warm happy cocoons of familial love that they are excluded. Outcast. Unwanted.
A man opened his front door as we passed, called out a greeting to the woman. She paused to share her news and receive congratulations. I stood beside her, making no effort to remain disguised within the darkness but still… They did not respond to my comments, or answer my questions. Nothing that I could do would make them notice me.
It was fitting. They are, after all, made in His image…
I decided then, as the woman and I continued our walk down the street, that it was time to take an action. I would step forth into the world, I would do things that would force them to acknowledge me. I would make a mark. And if they would not see me, I would kill them all.
We turned into an apartment complex, moved through the deserted halls and entered a small dark apartment. The light was blinding when she turned it on, its unprotected bulb sent roaches scurrying into dark corners. She dropped her purse onto the couch and walked into the bathroom.
I watched as she undressed, my being filled with envy. Her flesh was soft, shaven smooth. An exquisite butterscotch tone faded to a soft milky white which showed the sparse covering of the bikini she usually wore while sunbathing. Her breasts seemed to have been perfectly formed, barely swaying as she bent over the tub to start a bubble bath. Well shaped legs moved upward, the muscles in her thigh rippling slightly as she went down to one knee, her posterior a lopsided heart shape.
I glanced in the mirror as the tub filled, comparing my own plain appearance to this woman’s supple form. HE had put all of his love and detail into the creation of Man and Man’s Consort.
My complexion was pale, uninspiring when compared to her butterscotch sweetness. My figure was insignificant beside her generous curvature. My hair hung limp around my shoulders while hers flowed freely to her hips. My pale eyes were nothing the electricity which fairly sparkled in hers.
God had spared no effort on Man, while he had wasted none on his Angels.
She slid into the luscious warmth of her bath while I stood over her thoughtfully. Her eyes closed as she sank within a sea of jasmine scented bubbles. Her knees peeked out of the water as she wet her hair.
I leaned forward, bent double at the waist. My hand did not cause disturbance as it moved into the water, I felt nothing of the warmth of the bath or the texture of skin as my fingers closed around her throat.
She felt me then, in those moments. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise. She struggled, spilling water over the edge of the tub and soaking her clothing. Her hands flailed, grasping at the edge of the tub, trying to pull herself out. She gulped water instead of air and fought harder for a moment. The overwhelming scent of jasmine filled the small room as her kicks shattered the bottle against the wall. Glass shards opened wounds in her foot and calf. I saw, quite distinctly, the word ‘help’ form on her lips.
My fingers tightened around her neck, pushing her back against the porcelain tub. My other hand reached into the water, grasping her hair firmly. I leaned close, the ends of my own hair trailing through bubbles. I smiled, releasing my hand from her throat to take hold of her chin, my other hand tangling in the hair at the back of her head.
Her body relaxed, an expression of relief crossed her face as she tried to sit up.
>>SNAP<< Her eyes went blank, her body limp.
Instantly I felt regret. I wished that I had taken more time, that I had put the same effort and care into her destruction that had gone into her creation, but I could do that next time. Already her spirit was beginning its journey into the heavens, where she would report what she had seen.
I stood, shaking the water off of my hands, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I turned to leave. There was a faint tint of pink to my cheeks now, a certain softness about the lips. My wings unfurled, stretching their tattered tips until they brushed against the bathroom walls. I smiled, leaning forward to whisper to my reflection.
“This is what happens when you ignore me.”
I crave an outlet for the rage that builds within me every time I watch some disgustingly happy couple neck in the park, hold hands at the mall, kiss at a red light...
I crave expression, art... but art of a different sort... A way to show, to teach, to warn...
Yesterday I saw a woman walking alone after dark. She was so lovely. She wore a bemused smile, pausing every few moments to stare at a sparkling diamond on her left hand. The sparkle reflected in her eyes as she turned toward me. She was so alive, so vibrant with joy that even I, who knew nothing about her, realized that she had just become engaged. I expected her to shout at any moment, to scream to the heavens with her ecstasy at being loved, but...
She continued walking without comment, lost in her own world. Safe within the protective bubble of her news, excluding any who would share her pleasure. Her eyes slid over me without pause, her step didn't falter. She paid no more mind to me than she would a pile of excrement in her path, save avoidance on a level she was probably unaware of.
So I followed.
I fell into step behind her, dirty bare feet making no sound as I padded along in her wake. She hummed softly beneath her breath, unaware of the dirty fallen angel who moved between the worlds. My teeth ground together as I recognized the tune, a hymn I myself had once sang in this same bliss... This sure and certain knowledge that I was loved, and always would be. I had felt warm and safe, I had a purpose. I had known, beyond a doubt, that my love could never be proven false.
It wasn't. HIS was. HE turned from me. I stood at his side during the battle, I supported and loved him, I looked down and away from those who would turn their back’s on all that HE offered… and still he cast me out because I would not enter into the fray.
Nothing will change his mind, he will not heed my prayers, he does not take pleasure in my good works or deeds.
Mothers were calling children into the houses as we passed, it was going into that time of night where most families are sitting around a table, or gathered before the television. The streets become deserted and lonely, reminding any solitary soul who might wander by to peek into those warm happy cocoons of familial love that they are excluded. Outcast. Unwanted.
A man opened his front door as we passed, called out a greeting to the woman. She paused to share her news and receive congratulations. I stood beside her, making no effort to remain disguised within the darkness but still… They did not respond to my comments, or answer my questions. Nothing that I could do would make them notice me.
It was fitting. They are, after all, made in His image…
I decided then, as the woman and I continued our walk down the street, that it was time to take an action. I would step forth into the world, I would do things that would force them to acknowledge me. I would make a mark. And if they would not see me, I would kill them all.
We turned into an apartment complex, moved through the deserted halls and entered a small dark apartment. The light was blinding when she turned it on, its unprotected bulb sent roaches scurrying into dark corners. She dropped her purse onto the couch and walked into the bathroom.
I watched as she undressed, my being filled with envy. Her flesh was soft, shaven smooth. An exquisite butterscotch tone faded to a soft milky white which showed the sparse covering of the bikini she usually wore while sunbathing. Her breasts seemed to have been perfectly formed, barely swaying as she bent over the tub to start a bubble bath. Well shaped legs moved upward, the muscles in her thigh rippling slightly as she went down to one knee, her posterior a lopsided heart shape.
I glanced in the mirror as the tub filled, comparing my own plain appearance to this woman’s supple form. HE had put all of his love and detail into the creation of Man and Man’s Consort.
My complexion was pale, uninspiring when compared to her butterscotch sweetness. My figure was insignificant beside her generous curvature. My hair hung limp around my shoulders while hers flowed freely to her hips. My pale eyes were nothing the electricity which fairly sparkled in hers.
God had spared no effort on Man, while he had wasted none on his Angels.
She slid into the luscious warmth of her bath while I stood over her thoughtfully. Her eyes closed as she sank within a sea of jasmine scented bubbles. Her knees peeked out of the water as she wet her hair.
I leaned forward, bent double at the waist. My hand did not cause disturbance as it moved into the water, I felt nothing of the warmth of the bath or the texture of skin as my fingers closed around her throat.
She felt me then, in those moments. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise. She struggled, spilling water over the edge of the tub and soaking her clothing. Her hands flailed, grasping at the edge of the tub, trying to pull herself out. She gulped water instead of air and fought harder for a moment. The overwhelming scent of jasmine filled the small room as her kicks shattered the bottle against the wall. Glass shards opened wounds in her foot and calf. I saw, quite distinctly, the word ‘help’ form on her lips.
My fingers tightened around her neck, pushing her back against the porcelain tub. My other hand reached into the water, grasping her hair firmly. I leaned close, the ends of my own hair trailing through bubbles. I smiled, releasing my hand from her throat to take hold of her chin, my other hand tangling in the hair at the back of her head.
Her body relaxed, an expression of relief crossed her face as she tried to sit up.
>>SNAP<< Her eyes went blank, her body limp.
Instantly I felt regret. I wished that I had taken more time, that I had put the same effort and care into her destruction that had gone into her creation, but I could do that next time. Already her spirit was beginning its journey into the heavens, where she would report what she had seen.
I stood, shaking the water off of my hands, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I turned to leave. There was a faint tint of pink to my cheeks now, a certain softness about the lips. My wings unfurled, stretching their tattered tips until they brushed against the bathroom walls. I smiled, leaning forward to whisper to my reflection.
“This is what happens when you ignore me.”
"Dark Love"
"Come" she says, beckoning over her shoulder as she walks away. There is an imperious sound to the word which is at odds with the complacent smile on her lips and the flicker of emotion in her eyes. I pause for a moment, watching the movement of her lithe form as she opens the basement door, twisting at the waist to see if I will follow. It makes a striking picture, the stretched fabric throwing one breast into stark-relief, the unconsciously seductive pout of her delicately curved lips, and again that shadow darkening her blue eyes.
I could no more not follow than I could dance on the ceiling... This is my clever way of saying that I am drawn to her now as I have always been. Moths with their searing flames have nothing on the bittersweet attraction I feel toward Jeanette, the conflagration that destroys the moth could be considered pleasurable in comparison to the shredding I should get if she ever finds out that I think myself in love with her.
How do you tell your best friend of twelve years, the same girl you have had giggling slumber parties and makeovers with since fourth grade, the same girl who cried on your shoulder six months ago after discovering her boyfriend in bed with another woman, the same girl who shuddered delicately when confronted by any evidence of homosexuality: that you are a lesbian, and coincidentally madly in love with her?
You don't.
"What is it?" My head tilts to one side as I join her at the top of the stairs, peering down into the darkness. My only response is her hand at my hip, urging me to move forward. I hesitate for a moment, fighting back that childish fear of the darkness which even in my early twenties, I have yet to conquer. That the viscous dark fills the same basement we used to terrify ourselves by filling with imaginary ghosts and monsters probably does not help, not even the knowledge that said beasts were constructed by an overactive mind and nothing more.
Her hand pushes again, sliding up from hip to waist, fingers curling into the small of my back. The movement is slow and gentle; it sends a shiver of wanting through my body, this intimate caress. It gives me the courage to take the first few steps. Courage is bolstered after a moment by the sulfuric smell of a match being lit and put to candle. We are in the center of its light, held safe within a magic circle of protection. I focus on that, forcing it to be enough for me to see whatever it is that I am being taken to.
She is a step behind me, her fingertips trailing up along my spine to grasp my shoulder, nails scraping lightly against the back of my neck. Her thumb was brushing up and down along the rapid pulse in my throat. My mouth is dry now, my thoughts in a thunderstorm of activity. Could there be some significance to these actions, these gentle caresses, her breathy sigh that whispers my name halfway down the staircase?
I stop, turning to look up at her, allowing all of my confusion to show on my face. "Jenni?"
She smiles softly, leans forward to press her lips to mine in a fleeting kiss. The back of her hand brushes against my cheek before she touches my shoulder, urging me to turn around and continue.
Stunned, I comply. My thoughts are blank now, unable to process this new stimulus, unable to focus on anything but the momentary warmth of her lips on mine. I think I am in shock.
Her whisper confirms the thought, as we continue down the stairs. "I know that you love me, you always have. It used to scare me, you know... Like your fear of the dark, a deeply debilitating fright that made me unable to understand its meaning... Or my own feelings..." Her hand moves through my hair for a moment, tangling amongst the curls. I can almost hear the smile in her chuckle as she frees herself and continues.
"It was Paul who helped me figure it out, though I still don't quite know how. Seeing him with that girl... I was so hurt, so consumed by jealousy. But my first thought was of you, wanting to see you, be comforted by you. I knew that you would be there for me, as you always had been. I felt safe when you held me. I knew that if we were ever together, you would never cheat on me, you would never hurt me."
We come to the bottom of the stairs. The wide expanse I have explored in childhood dares is changed significantly. Where it had previously been one large room, it is now separated. A brick wall adorned by a heavy metal door claims more than half of the space. I study the shiny new padlocks for a moment before turning again, knowing that whatever secret she has to share lies behind the new construction.
With one hand she tugs at a chain around her throat, pulling out a key which she uses on the locks. That strangely complacent smile is on her lips again as the door swings inward, she watches me expectantly, a flicker of emotion again coloring her eyes. As I step within, she follows with the candle held high, swinging the door shut behind her.
The flickering flame delves into dark corners, exposing a Spartan room. A table with three chairs, two cots against the wall with blankets piled on them; a curtain in one corner offers a modicum of privacy to the small shower and toilet. A row of shelves contain supplies, candles, food and such.
"The walls are over a foot thick, completely sound proof. There is running water, but no electricity. Dad had it built as a bomb shelter of sorts, about four years ago, just before he died. You could survive down here for years... and no one would ever know..."
There is something sinister in her tone, some flickering hint of badness which is supported by a sudden shifting within the room. One of the blanket piles is pushed away as a man sits up, blinking owlishly in the half light of the room. He stares at me as if I were an apparition, rubbing his face as he struggles to his feet. "Ashley?" It is Paul, the unfaithful boyfriend who broke Jeanette's heart by disappearing shortly after the cheating incident. "Thank God..."
Hope lightens his dark eyes as he stumbles forward, reaching out toward me. At the last moment he veers away, turning to stare at Jeanette as she speaks again. "Paul came to beg forgiveness, offered to do penance... But he tried to go away again when I brought him here. So I hit him over the head and put locks on the door." He stumbles backward to fall onto the cot again.
"Jenni?" I flinch away from the possessive look in her eyes, glancing toward the door as I consider flight.
The candle's flame flickers, and then dies as she blows it out. Darkness falls upon the room, swallowing me whole. I back myself into a corner, clenching my hands into tight fists. I can feel my nails tearing into the flesh of my palms; my mind is full of static.
I hear a soft scraping sound somewhere off to the left, followed by Her voice. "Paul will never leave me again." It is a breathy sigh of contentment which makes me shudder and cower more deeply into my corner, my bastion of safety. "Paul will never leave me again... and neither will you."
The door slams with an echoing clang which bounces around inside my head and erupts from my throat in a soul searing scream. As the scream dies down and my lungs fill for another, I hear Paul's weary voice from across the room.
"Don't bother; no one will ever hear you."
I could no more not follow than I could dance on the ceiling... This is my clever way of saying that I am drawn to her now as I have always been. Moths with their searing flames have nothing on the bittersweet attraction I feel toward Jeanette, the conflagration that destroys the moth could be considered pleasurable in comparison to the shredding I should get if she ever finds out that I think myself in love with her.
How do you tell your best friend of twelve years, the same girl you have had giggling slumber parties and makeovers with since fourth grade, the same girl who cried on your shoulder six months ago after discovering her boyfriend in bed with another woman, the same girl who shuddered delicately when confronted by any evidence of homosexuality: that you are a lesbian, and coincidentally madly in love with her?
You don't.
"What is it?" My head tilts to one side as I join her at the top of the stairs, peering down into the darkness. My only response is her hand at my hip, urging me to move forward. I hesitate for a moment, fighting back that childish fear of the darkness which even in my early twenties, I have yet to conquer. That the viscous dark fills the same basement we used to terrify ourselves by filling with imaginary ghosts and monsters probably does not help, not even the knowledge that said beasts were constructed by an overactive mind and nothing more.
Her hand pushes again, sliding up from hip to waist, fingers curling into the small of my back. The movement is slow and gentle; it sends a shiver of wanting through my body, this intimate caress. It gives me the courage to take the first few steps. Courage is bolstered after a moment by the sulfuric smell of a match being lit and put to candle. We are in the center of its light, held safe within a magic circle of protection. I focus on that, forcing it to be enough for me to see whatever it is that I am being taken to.
She is a step behind me, her fingertips trailing up along my spine to grasp my shoulder, nails scraping lightly against the back of my neck. Her thumb was brushing up and down along the rapid pulse in my throat. My mouth is dry now, my thoughts in a thunderstorm of activity. Could there be some significance to these actions, these gentle caresses, her breathy sigh that whispers my name halfway down the staircase?
I stop, turning to look up at her, allowing all of my confusion to show on my face. "Jenni?"
She smiles softly, leans forward to press her lips to mine in a fleeting kiss. The back of her hand brushes against my cheek before she touches my shoulder, urging me to turn around and continue.
Stunned, I comply. My thoughts are blank now, unable to process this new stimulus, unable to focus on anything but the momentary warmth of her lips on mine. I think I am in shock.
Her whisper confirms the thought, as we continue down the stairs. "I know that you love me, you always have. It used to scare me, you know... Like your fear of the dark, a deeply debilitating fright that made me unable to understand its meaning... Or my own feelings..." Her hand moves through my hair for a moment, tangling amongst the curls. I can almost hear the smile in her chuckle as she frees herself and continues.
"It was Paul who helped me figure it out, though I still don't quite know how. Seeing him with that girl... I was so hurt, so consumed by jealousy. But my first thought was of you, wanting to see you, be comforted by you. I knew that you would be there for me, as you always had been. I felt safe when you held me. I knew that if we were ever together, you would never cheat on me, you would never hurt me."
We come to the bottom of the stairs. The wide expanse I have explored in childhood dares is changed significantly. Where it had previously been one large room, it is now separated. A brick wall adorned by a heavy metal door claims more than half of the space. I study the shiny new padlocks for a moment before turning again, knowing that whatever secret she has to share lies behind the new construction.
With one hand she tugs at a chain around her throat, pulling out a key which she uses on the locks. That strangely complacent smile is on her lips again as the door swings inward, she watches me expectantly, a flicker of emotion again coloring her eyes. As I step within, she follows with the candle held high, swinging the door shut behind her.
The flickering flame delves into dark corners, exposing a Spartan room. A table with three chairs, two cots against the wall with blankets piled on them; a curtain in one corner offers a modicum of privacy to the small shower and toilet. A row of shelves contain supplies, candles, food and such.
"The walls are over a foot thick, completely sound proof. There is running water, but no electricity. Dad had it built as a bomb shelter of sorts, about four years ago, just before he died. You could survive down here for years... and no one would ever know..."
There is something sinister in her tone, some flickering hint of badness which is supported by a sudden shifting within the room. One of the blanket piles is pushed away as a man sits up, blinking owlishly in the half light of the room. He stares at me as if I were an apparition, rubbing his face as he struggles to his feet. "Ashley?" It is Paul, the unfaithful boyfriend who broke Jeanette's heart by disappearing shortly after the cheating incident. "Thank God..."
Hope lightens his dark eyes as he stumbles forward, reaching out toward me. At the last moment he veers away, turning to stare at Jeanette as she speaks again. "Paul came to beg forgiveness, offered to do penance... But he tried to go away again when I brought him here. So I hit him over the head and put locks on the door." He stumbles backward to fall onto the cot again.
"Jenni?" I flinch away from the possessive look in her eyes, glancing toward the door as I consider flight.
The candle's flame flickers, and then dies as she blows it out. Darkness falls upon the room, swallowing me whole. I back myself into a corner, clenching my hands into tight fists. I can feel my nails tearing into the flesh of my palms; my mind is full of static.
I hear a soft scraping sound somewhere off to the left, followed by Her voice. "Paul will never leave me again." It is a breathy sigh of contentment which makes me shudder and cower more deeply into my corner, my bastion of safety. "Paul will never leave me again... and neither will you."
The door slams with an echoing clang which bounces around inside my head and erupts from my throat in a soul searing scream. As the scream dies down and my lungs fill for another, I hear Paul's weary voice from across the room.
"Don't bother; no one will ever hear you."
Daydreaming (ShowerThoughts)
The world exists in two places, two phases. They coexist separately, each having a purpose and a necessity, each having its reason and reality. Time operates differently in these places, one moving in with the languid pace that sometimes quickens in response to hungers… the other moving normally, operating and functioning as necessary.
There is the world within… and the world without.
Inside, time is slow. Each second lingers, stretches out with a feline grace before eventually relinquishing itself to the next but not without some regret. Each moment exists within an eternity, living for itself, for the one that came before and the one that comes after, each moment aware of what it is losing as it moves on with a sigh.
Words are spoken softly, ideas conveyed through soft sounds and touches. Sensation is communication, hunger sustained and satiated through contact. Need is not a thing that is spoken of, merely acted upon.
The world within exists for the moment, each moment, the now, the caress and glide of flesh, the questing touches, revealing words. A universe of communication carried between instants, spoken and known without effort, without worry of misunderstanding.
The clock is stopped at 3am, or perhaps the moment has lingered far beyond its allotment. Time is a solid, a tangible presence too jealous of its focus –or lack of being focused upon- to move willingly. Realities coalesce, fuse together, separate and return again, never questioning…
Figures, one and another, dancing to a beat older than envious time… a sensuality that lives within the pool of perspiration at the hollow of her throat, the rasp and rumble of his breathing. He stands, straight and strong and confident, the master of all things, the king of worlds, the servant of her whim. She lies, bound by hand and foot, a creature to comfort his needs, but the true mistress of the moment.
Communication, hunger, passion… these things rule the world within the walls, dominating and subjugating faint and fickle reality. Each touch, each sigh and moan, is a promise of the next. Flesh moving, sliding, hands and lips exploring, fuelled by hunger, patient desire teasing, seek the breaking point.
What began with a giggle ends with a strained and straining plea for mercy, as un-pious and unapologetic she cries out “Please… please…” and he obeys.
The world without, outside, it doesn’t exist. It does exist, but it is irrelevant. Others move in the outside world, others exist and breathe and live and love, but don’t matter. The world without is a succession as darkness become greyness and then varying shades of light before fading into the blueviolet bruise that scales down into darkness again before the cycle renews.
To those without, everything is of essence, importance. Time cannot be ignored, schedules must be met, needs must be considered and fulfilled. Passion is a dream, a series of moments stolen when luck favors the fortunate.
To those within, nothing exists but the moment, the touch, the taste. To those within, only they exist, only contact is real, only hunger matters. Only now, only you, only me… Moments stolen away from reality, the rest is forgotten.
There is the world within… and the world without.
Inside, time is slow. Each second lingers, stretches out with a feline grace before eventually relinquishing itself to the next but not without some regret. Each moment exists within an eternity, living for itself, for the one that came before and the one that comes after, each moment aware of what it is losing as it moves on with a sigh.
Words are spoken softly, ideas conveyed through soft sounds and touches. Sensation is communication, hunger sustained and satiated through contact. Need is not a thing that is spoken of, merely acted upon.
The world within exists for the moment, each moment, the now, the caress and glide of flesh, the questing touches, revealing words. A universe of communication carried between instants, spoken and known without effort, without worry of misunderstanding.
The clock is stopped at 3am, or perhaps the moment has lingered far beyond its allotment. Time is a solid, a tangible presence too jealous of its focus –or lack of being focused upon- to move willingly. Realities coalesce, fuse together, separate and return again, never questioning…
Figures, one and another, dancing to a beat older than envious time… a sensuality that lives within the pool of perspiration at the hollow of her throat, the rasp and rumble of his breathing. He stands, straight and strong and confident, the master of all things, the king of worlds, the servant of her whim. She lies, bound by hand and foot, a creature to comfort his needs, but the true mistress of the moment.
Communication, hunger, passion… these things rule the world within the walls, dominating and subjugating faint and fickle reality. Each touch, each sigh and moan, is a promise of the next. Flesh moving, sliding, hands and lips exploring, fuelled by hunger, patient desire teasing, seek the breaking point.
What began with a giggle ends with a strained and straining plea for mercy, as un-pious and unapologetic she cries out “Please… please…” and he obeys.
The world without, outside, it doesn’t exist. It does exist, but it is irrelevant. Others move in the outside world, others exist and breathe and live and love, but don’t matter. The world without is a succession as darkness become greyness and then varying shades of light before fading into the blueviolet bruise that scales down into darkness again before the cycle renews.
To those without, everything is of essence, importance. Time cannot be ignored, schedules must be met, needs must be considered and fulfilled. Passion is a dream, a series of moments stolen when luck favors the fortunate.
To those within, nothing exists but the moment, the touch, the taste. To those within, only they exist, only contact is real, only hunger matters. Only now, only you, only me… Moments stolen away from reality, the rest is forgotten.
3some (one too many)
I knew as soon as I saw him that I wanted him, but it wasn't until my lover went after him that I made a move.. not in competition, but because she and I like to share... and obviously we were both interested.
I knew I was in trouble when he ran to his car to get his collar and leash, that smile as he held it up in silent question... and I found myself lifting my hair out of the way without hesitation. She watched this with uneasy eyes, and that situation didn't get any better as the evening progressed... because the more time we spent together the more obvious it was that his preference was for me, not her.. Yet neither of us could really tell her to go away without being rude.
We should've... She was being wild and forward and greedy, sitting with her face in his lap even though he made no encouragement or invitation, I wished she'd at least been drunk to justify it because... I was embarrassed a bit. For her? Of her? He let her play as he sat on the couch between us, but smiled when I shifted so that my leg covered his groin and she couldn't reach anymore. She switched to trying to play with me, not noticing I wasn't responding. Not noticing that my gasps and sighs came from his more subtle touches rather than her bold ones.
He never told her no, so I assumed he was interested... and when he said he needed to choose, encouraged him to just go for the threesome option... I didn't want to not be the one he picked, and I was fairly sure all hell would break loose if she didn't get picked. So, we went to the bedroom with him.
In view of the others he made attempts at equality, he'd kiss me first, then her... He'd touch and pet us both. The moment we moved into privacy that pretense dropped. He kissed her a couple of times, played with her breasts a little, that was it.
She and I both being subs, he ordered her to show her work ethic (thank you, George Carlin) for me while he stayed higher, kissing, tesing, tormenting and testing my limits. We talked, his attentions focused completely on me, and I couldn't help but respond fully to him.... to the point that I pretty forgot she was between my thighs and the orgasms happened because of his kisses, his hands on my nipples, the things he was saying...
He told us right out front that there'd be no actual sex, but that he'd be willing to do quite a lot else... so when he said I'd earned a reward and ordered me to switch positions with her so that he could get behind me while I went down on her... I remembered to pay attention to what I was doing more because he reminded me to, and his hand would stop the wonderful things it was doing whenever he noticed I wasn't doing my job. It was her that finally claimed to be done, an soon she was sitting beside me watching as he ordered me onto his back so that he could make with the orals.
The first orgasm hit as soon as he started, the next half dozen came with increasing loudness until I finally had to shove him away or die because I could no longer breathe. Immediately he stretched up beside me, holding me, kissing me, caressing me until I calmed down again and reminded that he'd been promised a blowjob.
my girl ended up doing almost all of the work, I took my turns but sometimes stamina can be bad as well as good, and he kept pulling me back up for kisses and more of that wonderful talk, putting her back to work... and even though we'd agreed thats since she'd done most of the work she deserved the reward, but somehow I got it instead... Yum.
I do feel bad, though it was amazing for me... she was left out *sigh*
Worse, he told me the next day that if she hadn't been there, the 'no sex for 30 days' rule would've been bent, or ignored completely. Ah well...
I did get him. Eventually..
I knew I was in trouble when he ran to his car to get his collar and leash, that smile as he held it up in silent question... and I found myself lifting my hair out of the way without hesitation. She watched this with uneasy eyes, and that situation didn't get any better as the evening progressed... because the more time we spent together the more obvious it was that his preference was for me, not her.. Yet neither of us could really tell her to go away without being rude.
We should've... She was being wild and forward and greedy, sitting with her face in his lap even though he made no encouragement or invitation, I wished she'd at least been drunk to justify it because... I was embarrassed a bit. For her? Of her? He let her play as he sat on the couch between us, but smiled when I shifted so that my leg covered his groin and she couldn't reach anymore. She switched to trying to play with me, not noticing I wasn't responding. Not noticing that my gasps and sighs came from his more subtle touches rather than her bold ones.
He never told her no, so I assumed he was interested... and when he said he needed to choose, encouraged him to just go for the threesome option... I didn't want to not be the one he picked, and I was fairly sure all hell would break loose if she didn't get picked. So, we went to the bedroom with him.
In view of the others he made attempts at equality, he'd kiss me first, then her... He'd touch and pet us both. The moment we moved into privacy that pretense dropped. He kissed her a couple of times, played with her breasts a little, that was it.
She and I both being subs, he ordered her to show her work ethic (thank you, George Carlin) for me while he stayed higher, kissing, tesing, tormenting and testing my limits. We talked, his attentions focused completely on me, and I couldn't help but respond fully to him.... to the point that I pretty forgot she was between my thighs and the orgasms happened because of his kisses, his hands on my nipples, the things he was saying...
He told us right out front that there'd be no actual sex, but that he'd be willing to do quite a lot else... so when he said I'd earned a reward and ordered me to switch positions with her so that he could get behind me while I went down on her... I remembered to pay attention to what I was doing more because he reminded me to, and his hand would stop the wonderful things it was doing whenever he noticed I wasn't doing my job. It was her that finally claimed to be done, an soon she was sitting beside me watching as he ordered me onto his back so that he could make with the orals.
The first orgasm hit as soon as he started, the next half dozen came with increasing loudness until I finally had to shove him away or die because I could no longer breathe. Immediately he stretched up beside me, holding me, kissing me, caressing me until I calmed down again and reminded that he'd been promised a blowjob.
my girl ended up doing almost all of the work, I took my turns but sometimes stamina can be bad as well as good, and he kept pulling me back up for kisses and more of that wonderful talk, putting her back to work... and even though we'd agreed thats since she'd done most of the work she deserved the reward, but somehow I got it instead... Yum.
I do feel bad, though it was amazing for me... she was left out *sigh*
Worse, he told me the next day that if she hadn't been there, the 'no sex for 30 days' rule would've been bent, or ignored completely. Ah well...
I did get him. Eventually..
Unfortunately, he never followed through :(
He sits in his chair, hands lazily toying with her hair as She kneels before him with Her cheek against his thigh. I kneel beside Her, looking up at him as he shares tales of his wilder days... He'd known girls with a thing for cutting, girls who would come to him. He would mark them, intricate and detailed carvings. She smiles at me and I smile at him as She mentions thats something I'd be into. "I had to stop" he says, and I make no attempt to hide my disappointment as I ask why "Because I liked it a little too much." I tell him thats a pity, because I've never found anyone who would play that way with me. He smiles and says maybe its been long enough.
Later, he's sitting cross legged on the floor, I'm laying with my head in his lap. He takes hold of my hand and brings it up to kiss my fingertips before turning it over. The sharp edge of his thumbnail traces a pattern against my wrist while he watches my face to see the response. I try not to squirm but it can't be helped, and I can't hold back a murmur of sound that makes him smile "I thought so."
Later, he's sitting cross legged on the floor, I'm laying with my head in his lap. He takes hold of my hand and brings it up to kiss my fingertips before turning it over. The sharp edge of his thumbnail traces a pattern against my wrist while he watches my face to see the response. I try not to squirm but it can't be helped, and I can't hold back a murmur of sound that makes him smile "I thought so."
Eye Contact
He pushes me back against the pillow, hand tangling in my hair as he takes it from beneath me. The fingertips of his other hand playing across my nipple as he chuckles and leans in for a kiss. Habitually, my eyes drift close and he makes a soft sound of displeasure. My face is captured between his hands as I feel his fingers against my eye lids and I look at him. There's a stern look on his face as he holds my gaze until I understand he wants me to look at him. He leans in again, eyes on mine as his lips press against mine in a soft kiss, then another. Moments later, I forget, distracted by sensations of She and He both, my eyes drift and instantly his lips move away from mine... returning only once my gaze is locked with his again. It made my breath catch, that added connection, the intensity of it causing my heart to skip and leap. I admit, I clung to him, just like any heroine in a cheesy romance novel. His hair was soft under my fingers, and his shoulders strong as I wrapped my arms around him, and he chuckled against my ear as he moved to kiss the side of my throat. "I think you like it."
An interlude with 'Wash'
He's been teasing me afternoon and evening, little touches, kisses. "You want something, what is it?" I refuse to answer, because already I've discovered myself incapable of the word No with him. He gives me that smirk, that all knowing, evil, sexy little smirk of his. I sit for hours and watch the guys play cards, amused. Their conversation is better than inside where the girls are sitting around babbling about things that don't interest me. Right now, HE is what interests me, so in the chair beside his is where I stay... and between rounds in the game he leans over to kiss me. He holds my hand, running the sharp edge of his thumbnail against my palm, chuckling when I shiver in response. In retaliation I lean over and start kissing his neck, purring in his ear when that makes him shiver. "You want to have sex." he mutters, capturing my face so that I can't turn away this time. "You want to fuck." I smile silently, there's no point trying to deny such obvious truth...
Later, curled up on the couch watching a movie. The front door is open, which blocks his roommate's view of us on the couch. Others can probably see the way I squirm as he keeps me curled up against him. I intentionally wore a bra with thin fabric, anticipating the feel of his fingers playing across my nipples through fabric. Torture, such exquisite torment... I turn my face away, looking at the television and he pinches a nipple hard between his fingers, squeezing until I look back at him again... The look on his face is best described as sadistic glee as he switches to tweaking the other nipple until I try to pull away... Not because of pain, it probably does hurt but I can't tell through the haze of pleasure. I curl up against him, rewarded by kisses as his hand slides down to my zipper and oh gods do I want to let him do that but... This is when I notice his roomate's girl staring at us, and the guy sitting on the other couch near the television... So I squirm away, catching "Wash'" gaze and glancing down the hall toward his bedroom hopefully. "You want the cock." he whispers in my ear, almost a growl there and I refuse to answer verbally even as he guides my hand and being the obedient girl I show what attention I can to it through pants.
Still later, the rest of the thanksgiving guests have gone. My housemates tried to make me go home, but he had me pinned to the wall, telling me in between kisses that it was my choice if I wanted to go home or stay with him, refusing to say yes or no. Silly boy, if the answer isn't No, I'm staying. So we're back on the couch again, his roommate is outside smoking (roommate's girl has disappeared into the bedroom I think.) "You want the cock." he taunts again, smirking even though I refuse to say yes. He leans me back, pinning me to the couch as he growls low and bites, shaking his head back and forth... That spot on my neck will likely ache like a bruise for a week, but god I'll love that little reminder... Even though somehow he manages to always do it so that it hurts like a bruise without showing as one... Then he has me pinned further, stretched out on the couch with him on top, kissing in between his taunting declarations of the things he knows I want and hope for... until his roommate comes in and tells us to get a room.
He settles down and we curl up again to watch the rest of whatever movie it is that we're watching, I have trouble focusing as he takes every opportunity to tease, pinning me again whenever his roommate goes outside for another smoke. By now, if he'd only ask again, I'd actually be willing to admit that YES I do want it, him, everything...
I don't know if its a respite or torture of a different sort, the domestic scene as everyone pitches in to clean up and put away the Thanksgiving leftovers. "We'll have to pull the futon out." he kisses me and goes back to doing dishes. I laugh and continue with my assigned tasks. When he comes back from the bedroom he's carrying a tarot deck, I watch as he does two readings. A 3 card, then the full spread... He looks at me oddly and shakes his head, putting the cards away... and refuses to say what he was trying to discover though he seems bemused by the results while admitting they weren't very helpful.
Finally, bed, he orders me to strip and I remove everything but the thong and soon we're kissing again and he's tormenting me in such exquisite ways while holding our usual vague sort of conversation. "If we don't stop this." he says while grinding against me through his shorts and my flimsy bit of cloth "We'll both be in trouble." I ask why, and he drops the bomb "Because our 30 days aren't up yet.." Yes, he intends to obey the house rule and for a second I feel the urge to cry out of sheer frustration, which obviously pleases him. I point out thats only two weeks, trying to make it seem like nothing and no reason to wait... instead, I'm half a breath from begging and really two weeks sounds a lifetime away from this particular moment. "No." so smug.
I growl and struggle beneath him, wanting up, wanting to assert myself, wanting to take control and DEMAND. I'm ready to fight him for it if I have to, and there's fire in his eyes as he snarls and shoves me back down, pinning me to the mattress with his hand wrapped around my throat... There's such malicious glee in his expression and his voice, Pride as well. Every inch of the Alpha Male as that hand squeezes and he growls "Only on MY terms." his face close to mine. The world starts to fade in from the edges (does he have any idea exactly how close I was in that instant?) and I struggle to loosen his grip just enough so I cay say Yes... and he lets go, pause a minute while I remember how to breathe again... Then he's kissing me just as fiercely as if there'd been no interruption.
I can't help but laugh "You like it when I get angry." and he smiles, saying nothing. "Why do you enjoy that?" Again he has no answer, and it isn't until later that I consider my attempt to take control... it allows him to conquer me, proves that I still present him a challenge. Not until later, though... First there is him, and I suspect I'm being punished for my moment of rebellion. He's up to his knees, straddling my thighs so I can't squirm free, then higher so that he's pinning me by the chest and its obvious what he wants... I resist long enough for him to give an irritated grumble and rise off of me long enough to remove the shorts. This earns further punishment as he orders me to push my breasts together for him, and he is displeased as I try to find the right angle to do both. No, the rhythm is his to set and mine to accept as I work from an awkward angle to do what I can to add to it. I can't just be there and let it happen, always I am the active participant in my own downfall... but such a delicious punishment as he taunts me about liking the feel of his cock in my mouth.
Moments later I'm licking my lips and he's flopped over onto the bed with a very pleased smile as I snuggle up close and tease that he looks ready to fall asleep. He is, he admits... Though if I want reciprocation, he'll do so happily... though he's already realized I'm a special case. "I could do that, but we both know it'd be four hours later and you'd be pleased... but not satisfied, because there's another 2 weeks before you can have what you want." I consider it, because I have extremely warm memories of the way his mouth works and yes... There'd be a number of orgasms (I should mention to him at some point that even this is a rarity) but he's right... The orgasms in the end tend to be irrelevant, everything short of the actual PIV... its just foreplay, and no amount of how wonderful it can be is enough without that. As he says, I'm a special case.
So we kissed a bit more, then snuggled up and talked a while.
Later, curled up on the couch watching a movie. The front door is open, which blocks his roommate's view of us on the couch. Others can probably see the way I squirm as he keeps me curled up against him. I intentionally wore a bra with thin fabric, anticipating the feel of his fingers playing across my nipples through fabric. Torture, such exquisite torment... I turn my face away, looking at the television and he pinches a nipple hard between his fingers, squeezing until I look back at him again... The look on his face is best described as sadistic glee as he switches to tweaking the other nipple until I try to pull away... Not because of pain, it probably does hurt but I can't tell through the haze of pleasure. I curl up against him, rewarded by kisses as his hand slides down to my zipper and oh gods do I want to let him do that but... This is when I notice his roomate's girl staring at us, and the guy sitting on the other couch near the television... So I squirm away, catching "Wash'" gaze and glancing down the hall toward his bedroom hopefully. "You want the cock." he whispers in my ear, almost a growl there and I refuse to answer verbally even as he guides my hand and being the obedient girl I show what attention I can to it through pants.
Still later, the rest of the thanksgiving guests have gone. My housemates tried to make me go home, but he had me pinned to the wall, telling me in between kisses that it was my choice if I wanted to go home or stay with him, refusing to say yes or no. Silly boy, if the answer isn't No, I'm staying. So we're back on the couch again, his roommate is outside smoking (roommate's girl has disappeared into the bedroom I think.) "You want the cock." he taunts again, smirking even though I refuse to say yes. He leans me back, pinning me to the couch as he growls low and bites, shaking his head back and forth... That spot on my neck will likely ache like a bruise for a week, but god I'll love that little reminder... Even though somehow he manages to always do it so that it hurts like a bruise without showing as one... Then he has me pinned further, stretched out on the couch with him on top, kissing in between his taunting declarations of the things he knows I want and hope for... until his roommate comes in and tells us to get a room.
He settles down and we curl up again to watch the rest of whatever movie it is that we're watching, I have trouble focusing as he takes every opportunity to tease, pinning me again whenever his roommate goes outside for another smoke. By now, if he'd only ask again, I'd actually be willing to admit that YES I do want it, him, everything...
I don't know if its a respite or torture of a different sort, the domestic scene as everyone pitches in to clean up and put away the Thanksgiving leftovers. "We'll have to pull the futon out." he kisses me and goes back to doing dishes. I laugh and continue with my assigned tasks. When he comes back from the bedroom he's carrying a tarot deck, I watch as he does two readings. A 3 card, then the full spread... He looks at me oddly and shakes his head, putting the cards away... and refuses to say what he was trying to discover though he seems bemused by the results while admitting they weren't very helpful.
Finally, bed, he orders me to strip and I remove everything but the thong and soon we're kissing again and he's tormenting me in such exquisite ways while holding our usual vague sort of conversation. "If we don't stop this." he says while grinding against me through his shorts and my flimsy bit of cloth "We'll both be in trouble." I ask why, and he drops the bomb "Because our 30 days aren't up yet.." Yes, he intends to obey the house rule and for a second I feel the urge to cry out of sheer frustration, which obviously pleases him. I point out thats only two weeks, trying to make it seem like nothing and no reason to wait... instead, I'm half a breath from begging and really two weeks sounds a lifetime away from this particular moment. "No." so smug.
I growl and struggle beneath him, wanting up, wanting to assert myself, wanting to take control and DEMAND. I'm ready to fight him for it if I have to, and there's fire in his eyes as he snarls and shoves me back down, pinning me to the mattress with his hand wrapped around my throat... There's such malicious glee in his expression and his voice, Pride as well. Every inch of the Alpha Male as that hand squeezes and he growls "Only on MY terms." his face close to mine. The world starts to fade in from the edges (does he have any idea exactly how close I was in that instant?) and I struggle to loosen his grip just enough so I cay say Yes... and he lets go, pause a minute while I remember how to breathe again... Then he's kissing me just as fiercely as if there'd been no interruption.
I can't help but laugh "You like it when I get angry." and he smiles, saying nothing. "Why do you enjoy that?" Again he has no answer, and it isn't until later that I consider my attempt to take control... it allows him to conquer me, proves that I still present him a challenge. Not until later, though... First there is him, and I suspect I'm being punished for my moment of rebellion. He's up to his knees, straddling my thighs so I can't squirm free, then higher so that he's pinning me by the chest and its obvious what he wants... I resist long enough for him to give an irritated grumble and rise off of me long enough to remove the shorts. This earns further punishment as he orders me to push my breasts together for him, and he is displeased as I try to find the right angle to do both. No, the rhythm is his to set and mine to accept as I work from an awkward angle to do what I can to add to it. I can't just be there and let it happen, always I am the active participant in my own downfall... but such a delicious punishment as he taunts me about liking the feel of his cock in my mouth.
Moments later I'm licking my lips and he's flopped over onto the bed with a very pleased smile as I snuggle up close and tease that he looks ready to fall asleep. He is, he admits... Though if I want reciprocation, he'll do so happily... though he's already realized I'm a special case. "I could do that, but we both know it'd be four hours later and you'd be pleased... but not satisfied, because there's another 2 weeks before you can have what you want." I consider it, because I have extremely warm memories of the way his mouth works and yes... There'd be a number of orgasms (I should mention to him at some point that even this is a rarity) but he's right... The orgasms in the end tend to be irrelevant, everything short of the actual PIV... its just foreplay, and no amount of how wonderful it can be is enough without that. As he says, I'm a special case.
So we kissed a bit more, then snuggled up and talked a while.
A-Z Kink Meme
24/7 (Total Power Exchange)? yes
Abasiophilia (Casts, Braces, Wheelchairs)? er, no?
Age Play? ew, no
Adult Baby/AB Parent? hell no
Algolagnia (Pleasure derived from physical pain)? YES
Amputee Fetishism (Amputation/Deformity)? ... no? (However, there was that scene in Crash... James Spader... hotness...)
Anal Sex? NO. The Shanon does not do *anything* anal related
Andromimetophilia (Androgeny)? um?
Arse (Ass Play, Worship)? NO
Asphyxiaphilia (Breath Play, Choking)? YES, please
Balloons? ... what?
Bestiality/Zoophilia? Fuck No
Beating (Flogs, Whips, Canes, etc.)? YES
Biastophilia (Committing Rape/Sexual Assault)? committing? No... Rape PLAY... possibly
Biting/Teeth? yes
Blood (Drawing Blood, Cutting, etc.)? Yes
Body Hair? No.
Body Modification (Tattoos, Branding, Piercings, etc.)? YES (and they forgot scarification)
Bondage (Blind folds, Gags, Restraints)? Yes
Breast/Nipple Torture, Clamps, etc.? ... maybe
Candle Wax? yes
Chains? yes
Chastity Devices? ... prolly not
Chinese Balls/Ben Wa Balls/Anal Beads? Nothing Anal
Cling Film/Plastic Wrap? um... I'd consider it, depending?
Cock and Ball Torture, Clamps, etc.? No.
Collar and Lead/Leash? YES
Confinement/Caging? Probably
Coprophilia (Shit Play/Scat)? Not a fucking chance
Costumes (Period, Fetish, etc.)? yes
Cross Dressing? sure
Cupping (Suction of the Skin)? I'm not entirely sure what that means....
Dacryphilia (Arousal from Tears)? not likely
Defilement (Seeing a partner dirty or wet)? No
Denim? um, sure?
Depilation/Shaving? yes
Diapers/Diaper Lover? fuck no
Dildos (Hand-held & Strap-ons)? yes
Discipline? YES
Doctor/Nurse Fetish? ... Yes, I think so... (I blame Simon Tam)
Domination? Yes
Ears? huh?
Electrotorture (EMS TENS units)? if thats anything like the violet wand then YES YES YES :)
Emetophilia (Vomit, Regurgitation)? Ewww, not a chance
Erotic Photography? sure
Exhibitionism/Sex In Public? skirt flipped up, no panties, up against a wall? Hell yeah. Full nudity, no...
Feathers? sure?
Pyrophilia (Fire Play)? YES (I need to find a copy of the video that was made of me...)
Fisting? uh. no, not likely
Food Play? ... depending on what sort
Fuck Machines/Robots? Yes (Hey Jiggalo Joe, What'ya know?)
Furry/Fur Fetishism? Not A Fucking Chance. (sorry, nothing personal, just not for me kthxbai)
Gangbangs? uh... no
Genital Worship? depending on what that means, prolly?
Guns (Gun Play, Worship)? yes
Hair Pulling? YES
Handcuffs/Shackles? Yes
Harnesses? ... maybe?
High Heels/Stilettos? sure
Humiliation? no thank you
Infantilism (Pacifiers/Bottles, etc.)? fuck no
Kidnapping Play? yes
Klismaphilia (Douching/Enema)? uh... no, ew?
Knives (Razors, Swords, other blades)? YES YES YES YES YES :)
Lace/Lingerie? Yes
Latex? Sure
Leather? Yup
Making Home "Movies"? Possibly
Masks (Erotic/Gas Masks, etc.)? ... I'd consider it
Masochism? YES YES
Massage? YES
Master/Slave? yessir
Masturbation (Mutual or Forced)? yes, but... how do you force that?
Medical Scenes/Equipment? possibly
Menstruation (Sex During, Eating, etc.)? ew, No. NO.
Murder Fetishism? YES (I'm crazy, and yes I have a Serial Killer fetish...)
Military Fetish/Uniforms? Sure
Milk Fetishism/Lactation? NO
Necrophilia (Death, Corpses)? ... ... ... I have a morbid fasincation, but... I don't think I'd ever follow through with it
Nipples? YES
Oral Fixations? Yes
Oral Sex? YES
Pain (Giving/Receiving)? HURT ME, BREAK ME, MAKE ME BLEED! er, yes.
Piercings? sure
Pinching? Not sure what that means but I guess so?
Play Piercing/Needle Play? piercing, yes... needles, no... hypodermic type needles FUCK YOU NO.
Plushophilia (Stuffed animals, Plushies)? Eww, no
Podophilia (Foot Fetish)? no thank you
Power Exchange? yes
Pregnancy Fetishism? Eww, NO.
Punishment? YES
The Rack/Medieval Devices? ... fuck YES
Raptophilia (Sexual arousal from being raped)? .... rape PLAY YES... intensely scary rape Play YES... actual rape, isn't as fun as it sounds. No need to try it again.
Religious (Nunplay, Priestplay)? YES. (Bless me Father, that I may Sin...)
Retifism (Shoes or Boots)? sure?
Rimming? NO.
Role Playing? yes
Rubber? Sure
Sadism? hurt me? Um, I can be somewhat sadistic in the right mindset, but its pretty rare
Scent? no idea what that means...
Sensory Deprivation? YES
Smoking Fetishism? I have a thing for smokers, enjoy kissing them, but... I'm not really sure what this means? Maybe?
Spanking/Paddling? sure (I prefer the occasional hard slap on the ass, but if spanking turns 'em on sure.)
Statuephilia (Mannequins, Dolls, etc.)? ... maybe?
Stockings/Fishnets/Pantyhose? sure?
Talking Dirty/Verbal Humiliation/Abuse? I love being talked dirty to, can't manage to do it myself... but I DESPISE the humiliation stuff, being called names only makes me angry. Turn OFF.
Tickling? as a flirting thing, yeh... it doesnt' actually turn me on tho
Tongue Fetish? ... not sure what that means but prolly?
Toys (Buttplugs, Vibrators, etc.)? uh. Depends on the toy and where its meant to go. Buttplugs FUCK YOU NO. vibrators and such yes.
Transvestism? um. Drag queens are hot so sure...
Urolagnia (Water Sports/Urine)? NO
Violence/Physical Injury? YES YES YES
Voyeurism? Yes
Wrestling/Fighting? Yes.
Zombies/Gore? Braaaaaaaaaains... Yes.
Abasiophilia (Casts, Braces, Wheelchairs)? er, no?
Age Play? ew, no
Adult Baby/AB Parent? hell no
Algolagnia (Pleasure derived from physical pain)? YES
Amputee Fetishism (Amputation/Deformity)? ... no? (However, there was that scene in Crash... James Spader... hotness...)
Anal Sex? NO. The Shanon does not do *anything* anal related
Andromimetophilia (Androgeny)? um?
Arse (Ass Play, Worship)? NO
Asphyxiaphilia (Breath Play, Choking)? YES, please
Balloons? ... what?
Bestiality/Zoophilia? Fuck No
Beating (Flogs, Whips, Canes, etc.)? YES
Biastophilia (Committing Rape/Sexual Assault)? committing? No... Rape PLAY... possibly
Biting/Teeth? yes
Blood (Drawing Blood, Cutting, etc.)? Yes
Body Hair? No.
Body Modification (Tattoos, Branding, Piercings, etc.)? YES (and they forgot scarification)
Bondage (Blind folds, Gags, Restraints)? Yes
Breast/Nipple Torture, Clamps, etc.? ... maybe
Candle Wax? yes
Chains? yes
Chastity Devices? ... prolly not
Chinese Balls/Ben Wa Balls/Anal Beads? Nothing Anal
Cling Film/Plastic Wrap? um... I'd consider it, depending?
Cock and Ball Torture, Clamps, etc.? No.
Collar and Lead/Leash? YES
Confinement/Caging? Probably
Coprophilia (Shit Play/Scat)? Not a fucking chance
Costumes (Period, Fetish, etc.)? yes
Cross Dressing? sure
Cupping (Suction of the Skin)? I'm not entirely sure what that means....
Dacryphilia (Arousal from Tears)? not likely
Defilement (Seeing a partner dirty or wet)? No
Denim? um, sure?
Depilation/Shaving? yes
Diapers/Diaper Lover? fuck no
Dildos (Hand-held & Strap-ons)? yes
Discipline? YES
Doctor/Nurse Fetish? ... Yes, I think so... (I blame Simon Tam)
Domination? Yes
Ears? huh?
Electrotorture (EMS TENS units)? if thats anything like the violet wand then YES YES YES :)
Emetophilia (Vomit, Regurgitation)? Ewww, not a chance
Erotic Photography? sure
Exhibitionism/Sex In Public? skirt flipped up, no panties, up against a wall? Hell yeah. Full nudity, no...
Feathers? sure?
Pyrophilia (Fire Play)? YES (I need to find a copy of the video that was made of me...)
Fisting? uh. no, not likely
Food Play? ... depending on what sort
Fuck Machines/Robots? Yes (Hey Jiggalo Joe, What'ya know?)
Furry/Fur Fetishism? Not A Fucking Chance. (sorry, nothing personal, just not for me kthxbai)
Gangbangs? uh... no
Genital Worship? depending on what that means, prolly?
Guns (Gun Play, Worship)? yes
Hair Pulling? YES
Handcuffs/Shackles? Yes
Harnesses? ... maybe?
High Heels/Stilettos? sure
Humiliation? no thank you
Infantilism (Pacifiers/Bottles, etc.)? fuck no
Kidnapping Play? yes
Klismaphilia (Douching/Enema)? uh... no, ew?
Knives (Razors, Swords, other blades)? YES YES YES YES YES :)
Lace/Lingerie? Yes
Latex? Sure
Leather? Yup
Making Home "Movies"? Possibly
Masks (Erotic/Gas Masks, etc.)? ... I'd consider it
Masochism? YES YES
Massage? YES
Master/Slave? yessir
Masturbation (Mutual or Forced)? yes, but... how do you force that?
Medical Scenes/Equipment? possibly
Menstruation (Sex During, Eating, etc.)? ew, No. NO.
Murder Fetishism? YES (I'm crazy, and yes I have a Serial Killer fetish...)
Military Fetish/Uniforms? Sure
Milk Fetishism/Lactation? NO
Necrophilia (Death, Corpses)? ... ... ... I have a morbid fasincation, but... I don't think I'd ever follow through with it
Nipples? YES
Oral Fixations? Yes
Oral Sex? YES
Pain (Giving/Receiving)? HURT ME, BREAK ME, MAKE ME BLEED! er, yes.
Piercings? sure
Pinching? Not sure what that means but I guess so?
Play Piercing/Needle Play? piercing, yes... needles, no... hypodermic type needles FUCK YOU NO.
Plushophilia (Stuffed animals, Plushies)? Eww, no
Podophilia (Foot Fetish)? no thank you
Power Exchange? yes
Pregnancy Fetishism? Eww, NO.
Punishment? YES
The Rack/Medieval Devices? ... fuck YES
Raptophilia (Sexual arousal from being raped)? .... rape PLAY YES... intensely scary rape Play YES... actual rape, isn't as fun as it sounds. No need to try it again.
Religious (Nunplay, Priestplay)? YES. (Bless me Father, that I may Sin...)
Retifism (Shoes or Boots)? sure?
Rimming? NO.
Role Playing? yes
Rubber? Sure
Sadism? hurt me? Um, I can be somewhat sadistic in the right mindset, but its pretty rare
Scent? no idea what that means...
Sensory Deprivation? YES
Smoking Fetishism? I have a thing for smokers, enjoy kissing them, but... I'm not really sure what this means? Maybe?
Spanking/Paddling? sure (I prefer the occasional hard slap on the ass, but if spanking turns 'em on sure.)
Statuephilia (Mannequins, Dolls, etc.)? ... maybe?
Stockings/Fishnets/Pantyhose? sure?
Talking Dirty/Verbal Humiliation/Abuse? I love being talked dirty to, can't manage to do it myself... but I DESPISE the humiliation stuff, being called names only makes me angry. Turn OFF.
Tickling? as a flirting thing, yeh... it doesnt' actually turn me on tho
Tongue Fetish? ... not sure what that means but prolly?
Toys (Buttplugs, Vibrators, etc.)? uh. Depends on the toy and where its meant to go. Buttplugs FUCK YOU NO. vibrators and such yes.
Transvestism? um. Drag queens are hot so sure...
Urolagnia (Water Sports/Urine)? NO
Violence/Physical Injury? YES YES YES
Voyeurism? Yes
Wrestling/Fighting? Yes.
Zombies/Gore? Braaaaaaaaaains... Yes.
BDSM Quiz thing
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Do you have an inclination for BDSM? created with QuizFarm.com | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| You scored as Submission It feels good to serve. A lack of control in the bedroom can be fun and relaxing. Being with a dominate person wouldn't be a bad idea.
|
"Tease"
A single candle glows by the bedside.
A slight breeze from the open window fills the room with an elusive fragrance.
The bed is made up with freshly laundered red satin sheets.
Raven hair lays fanned out against the pillow.
Her almond shaped eyes are closed.
Her lips in a slight pout.
One hand is tucked under her pillow above her head.
The other hand resting comfortably across her abdomen.
One leg is stretched, toes pointed toward the end of the bed.
The other leg, knee crooked slightly.
A soft sigh causes the flame to flicker.
Shadows shift slowly, as if caressing her naked form.
She shifts slightly as a weight moves onto the mattress beside her.
Eyes flutter for a moment, showing a glimpse of honey.
He holds his breath, not wanting to wake her just yet.
She whispers his name sleepily as her eyes close again.
He smiles as he watches her.
His eyes slide along her curves.
Carefully he stands again, moving to the far side of the room.
A soft rustle of fabric as his clothes fall to the ground.
He stands above her for a long moment, hesitant.
She is peaceful in sleep, serene.
The essence that is her lurks just beneath the surface.
He smiles, stretching out beside her.
Their bodies are inches apart.
Lightly he runs his fingertips along the curve of her hip.
Gently he brushes the hair away from her face.
He leans forward, pressing his lips against hers.
His hand cups her breast possessively.
She sighs, arching into him, lips parting.
Her eyes flutter again.
A hand touches his arm, moves up to his shoulder.
The kiss deepens, tongues caressing.
Her fingertips move across the back of his neck, then up along his stubbly scalp.
He purrs, a soft rumble in the depths of his chest.
She squirms, pressing herself against him.
Her pale skin glows against his darker tone.
His lips move to her breast, closing over nipple.
His hand slowly travels downward to cup her mons.
Her legs part slightly, hips shift and twist encouragingly.
His soft laugh against her breast.
Her breathless whimper.
His fingers explore, teasing along the edge of her opening.
Thumb moving in tiny circles without ever touching that sensitive bit of flesh.
Her tongue slides along his scalp.
He shivers.
His fingers slip inside.
His thumb presses.
She moans.
Her hand trails down his back to his hip, then forward.
Her fingers cup his sac.
His lips trace her collar bone, moving along her throat.
Her hand wraps around his length, squeezing lightly.
Her voice, breathless with need. "Please..."
He nuzzles the place behind her ear. "Please?"
She squeezes again. "Don't tease...
His hand pulls away.
Wet fingers are placed against her lips.
Her tongue swirls around his fingertip before it is taken away.
He licks the taste of her from his own fingers, then kisses her.
"I need you..." Her hand tugs at him lightly.
He raises up on one elbow.
Pushes her back against the pillows.
Moves between her thighs.
Eyes gleam in the darkness as he looks down at her.
"What do you need?" He smiles.
He catches her hands, holding them above her head.
He presses himself against her, waiting.
She whimpers.
He watches the flush rise in her cheeks.
He smiles.
"I need..."
His head tilts to the side slightly.
"I need your love..."
He blinks.
He enters her slowly, drawing the moment into eternity.
Her hips rise against him.
He releases her hands.
Her arms move to encircle his shoulders.
Their eyes meet and hold.
He is buried fully within her.
They stay completely still.
His lips brush across hers.
His whisper is soft. "You have it."
Their lips meet.
The candle flickers, and goes out.
A slight breeze from the open window fills the room with an elusive fragrance.
The bed is made up with freshly laundered red satin sheets.
Raven hair lays fanned out against the pillow.
Her almond shaped eyes are closed.
Her lips in a slight pout.
One hand is tucked under her pillow above her head.
The other hand resting comfortably across her abdomen.
One leg is stretched, toes pointed toward the end of the bed.
The other leg, knee crooked slightly.
A soft sigh causes the flame to flicker.
Shadows shift slowly, as if caressing her naked form.
She shifts slightly as a weight moves onto the mattress beside her.
Eyes flutter for a moment, showing a glimpse of honey.
He holds his breath, not wanting to wake her just yet.
She whispers his name sleepily as her eyes close again.
He smiles as he watches her.
His eyes slide along her curves.
Carefully he stands again, moving to the far side of the room.
A soft rustle of fabric as his clothes fall to the ground.
He stands above her for a long moment, hesitant.
She is peaceful in sleep, serene.
The essence that is her lurks just beneath the surface.
He smiles, stretching out beside her.
Their bodies are inches apart.
Lightly he runs his fingertips along the curve of her hip.
Gently he brushes the hair away from her face.
He leans forward, pressing his lips against hers.
His hand cups her breast possessively.
She sighs, arching into him, lips parting.
Her eyes flutter again.
A hand touches his arm, moves up to his shoulder.
The kiss deepens, tongues caressing.
Her fingertips move across the back of his neck, then up along his stubbly scalp.
He purrs, a soft rumble in the depths of his chest.
She squirms, pressing herself against him.
Her pale skin glows against his darker tone.
His lips move to her breast, closing over nipple.
His hand slowly travels downward to cup her mons.
Her legs part slightly, hips shift and twist encouragingly.
His soft laugh against her breast.
Her breathless whimper.
His fingers explore, teasing along the edge of her opening.
Thumb moving in tiny circles without ever touching that sensitive bit of flesh.
Her tongue slides along his scalp.
He shivers.
His fingers slip inside.
His thumb presses.
She moans.
Her hand trails down his back to his hip, then forward.
Her fingers cup his sac.
His lips trace her collar bone, moving along her throat.
Her hand wraps around his length, squeezing lightly.
Her voice, breathless with need. "Please..."
He nuzzles the place behind her ear. "Please?"
She squeezes again. "Don't tease...
His hand pulls away.
Wet fingers are placed against her lips.
Her tongue swirls around his fingertip before it is taken away.
He licks the taste of her from his own fingers, then kisses her.
"I need you..." Her hand tugs at him lightly.
He raises up on one elbow.
Pushes her back against the pillows.
Moves between her thighs.
Eyes gleam in the darkness as he looks down at her.
"What do you need?" He smiles.
He catches her hands, holding them above her head.
He presses himself against her, waiting.
She whimpers.
He watches the flush rise in her cheeks.
He smiles.
"I need..."
His head tilts to the side slightly.
"I need your love..."
He blinks.
He enters her slowly, drawing the moment into eternity.
Her hips rise against him.
He releases her hands.
Her arms move to encircle his shoulders.
Their eyes meet and hold.
He is buried fully within her.
They stay completely still.
His lips brush across hers.
His whisper is soft. "You have it."
Their lips meet.
The candle flickers, and goes out.
Some thoughts on how to catch a... me :)
If you want me to fall for you, hard and fast and probably to a degree that I'll never completely be able to get over afterward... Play me (like a fish on a line?) for a little while. Subtly, with just enough hope that its leading somewhere, but still enough doubt that I'm never fully confident in where things stand. Not so much hot and cold as... warm and cool, I suppose? Show interest to a certain degree, but stay distant as well. Tease me about what might happen, if you decide to follow through.
If you mean it, if you do follow through, I'll forgive all the angst and confusion that led me through the maze to the point where you do admit "Yes, I want you." If you don't drag it out more than a few months without giving some hope, always just enough to keep me interested, but never going so distant that I lose confidence in there being a chance.
Once that phase passes (though, some amount of mystery should always exist... just not doubt. Beyond that point, I should know that you want me... but always wonder just a little about the details. The occasional sly glance or smirk, refusing to explain, obviously calculating and coming to some decision. Sometimes staying just out of reach, but not so far that you can't turn around and pounce at the right moment...) er
Once that phase passes (take two) let me in. Doesn't have to be all the way, your deep dark secrets but... If you need someone to just curl up with and talk to or forget about your troubles... let it be me sometimes. I need to be needed as much as I want to be wanted. But? Don't get clingy, or whiny. Keep the balance.
If we have a regular social group, and thats where we always end up seeing each other... Show interest, and beyond that... show interest in seeing me outside of the group, make time that we can be alone once in a while... or, if thats just not possible for whatever reason, find the opportunity for us to be alone sometimes. Or once in a while make a point of letting me know that I'm why you decided to show up.
Be affectionate, touch me... I'm a sensation based creature, and its the intimacy of casual affection that will capture me more thoroughly than the more thorough one of sex. A caress, a kiss, a whisper... I need those things. Romance is in the details of the gestures, not flowers and candy... But little things like picking up a 2liter of Cherry 7up because I mentioned how much I love it, bringing me something shiny you found at work cause you knew it'd make me grin, things that show you thought about me...
Every once in a while, make me beg *grin* make me take the initiative...
Hmmm... Also? Randomly throwing me up against the wall, pinning me, kissing me... is *always* a good thing. Taking my hand and dragging me off to be alone. Taking a handful of hair as you lean in to whisper and tell me what you want... Feed the subbie once in a while, she craves the Dominant man more than the rest of me craves all the rest of that stuff. Doesn't have to be always, often, or in extreme ways... Usually its just that I need you to be assertive, a little bit aggressive maybe... Never let me forget that you want me, that I'm yours.
Possessiveness (without jealousy) is a beautiful thing.
If you mean it, if you do follow through, I'll forgive all the angst and confusion that led me through the maze to the point where you do admit "Yes, I want you." If you don't drag it out more than a few months without giving some hope, always just enough to keep me interested, but never going so distant that I lose confidence in there being a chance.
Once that phase passes (though, some amount of mystery should always exist... just not doubt. Beyond that point, I should know that you want me... but always wonder just a little about the details. The occasional sly glance or smirk, refusing to explain, obviously calculating and coming to some decision. Sometimes staying just out of reach, but not so far that you can't turn around and pounce at the right moment...) er
Once that phase passes (take two) let me in. Doesn't have to be all the way, your deep dark secrets but... If you need someone to just curl up with and talk to or forget about your troubles... let it be me sometimes. I need to be needed as much as I want to be wanted. But? Don't get clingy, or whiny. Keep the balance.
If we have a regular social group, and thats where we always end up seeing each other... Show interest, and beyond that... show interest in seeing me outside of the group, make time that we can be alone once in a while... or, if thats just not possible for whatever reason, find the opportunity for us to be alone sometimes. Or once in a while make a point of letting me know that I'm why you decided to show up.
Be affectionate, touch me... I'm a sensation based creature, and its the intimacy of casual affection that will capture me more thoroughly than the more thorough one of sex. A caress, a kiss, a whisper... I need those things. Romance is in the details of the gestures, not flowers and candy... But little things like picking up a 2liter of Cherry 7up because I mentioned how much I love it, bringing me something shiny you found at work cause you knew it'd make me grin, things that show you thought about me...
Every once in a while, make me beg *grin* make me take the initiative...
Hmmm... Also? Randomly throwing me up against the wall, pinning me, kissing me... is *always* a good thing. Taking my hand and dragging me off to be alone. Taking a handful of hair as you lean in to whisper and tell me what you want... Feed the subbie once in a while, she craves the Dominant man more than the rest of me craves all the rest of that stuff. Doesn't have to be always, often, or in extreme ways... Usually its just that I need you to be assertive, a little bit aggressive maybe... Never let me forget that you want me, that I'm yours.
Possessiveness (without jealousy) is a beautiful thing.
Happiness is...
Walking into a room, seeing the person you were hoping (but not expecting) to run into, them looking up and noticing you right away. That little thrill of squee that lasts through the moment of eye contact as you smile... and fades into a general sense of well being, a warmth that moves through you... contentment.
Talking to friends, occasionally glancing around to see what he's up to, once or twice catching a smile.
Wandering over to talk to the person he's talking to, him getting up to leave and walking in my direction, stopping in front of me and just standing there for a moment. No words, no contact, nothing. Just standing, almost touching but not, just a bit of a smile, then he walks away and I laugh.
Watching him watch as I pace the edges of the crowd, looking for an excuse to stop near him... finally giving in and pulling up the chair beside, then taking an excuse to move to the floor at his feet.
A hand on my hair, petting, tracing the shape of an ear, brushing the hair out of the way to bare my neck, fingertips moving over the side of my throat and along the collar bone. Closing my eyes and leaning against his knee with a happy sigh.
Walking, talking, glancing around and noticing directions that could be taken if it were allowed to find someplace to play.
Later, when everyone opts for food, showing up to find an empty seat beside him. Uncertain, sitting at a table nearby instead, then standing and wandering between tables talking to people, pausing near him often... taking the opportunity to break a tense moment by touching and drawing him into the conversation.
Sitting beside him, angled so that my leg is touching his, warm contact... I know that sounds silly but its... dunno, just a thing, in its own way just as intimate as holding hands... one of those little things that just kills me.
Shifting so that I've got one leg crossed, knee resting on his thigh. His hand falling beneath the table onto my leg, a caress, then quickly back again as he smiles.
Looking over at him as he's looking at me, even if he says nothing when I ask 'what'... which leaves me alone with the turning gears in my own head
Talking to friends, occasionally glancing around to see what he's up to, once or twice catching a smile.
Wandering over to talk to the person he's talking to, him getting up to leave and walking in my direction, stopping in front of me and just standing there for a moment. No words, no contact, nothing. Just standing, almost touching but not, just a bit of a smile, then he walks away and I laugh.
Watching him watch as I pace the edges of the crowd, looking for an excuse to stop near him... finally giving in and pulling up the chair beside, then taking an excuse to move to the floor at his feet.
A hand on my hair, petting, tracing the shape of an ear, brushing the hair out of the way to bare my neck, fingertips moving over the side of my throat and along the collar bone. Closing my eyes and leaning against his knee with a happy sigh.
Walking, talking, glancing around and noticing directions that could be taken if it were allowed to find someplace to play.
Later, when everyone opts for food, showing up to find an empty seat beside him. Uncertain, sitting at a table nearby instead, then standing and wandering between tables talking to people, pausing near him often... taking the opportunity to break a tense moment by touching and drawing him into the conversation.
Sitting beside him, angled so that my leg is touching his, warm contact... I know that sounds silly but its... dunno, just a thing, in its own way just as intimate as holding hands... one of those little things that just kills me.
Shifting so that I've got one leg crossed, knee resting on his thigh. His hand falling beneath the table onto my leg, a caress, then quickly back again as he smiles.
Looking over at him as he's looking at me, even if he says nothing when I ask 'what'... which leaves me alone with the turning gears in my own head
"Prayer"
I am in complete darkness. Not blindfolded, as I first think upon waking, for I can discern the delicate shadings in the room around me. I can sense a presence, and as I shift around there is something near the edge of the bed, a solidified darkness that shifts toward me as I reach for the lamp "No." his voice is soft, yet still commanding. I pause, sitting up even as I listen to a shifting of fabric as the figure stands. "Sit here."
I don't know this chair, I don't keep one in the bedroom. I feel it first with my fingertips, an almost velvet texture that caresses my palm as I slide my hand over its arm. I settle into it after only a moment's hesitation, sinking into soft cushions that my half-sleepy fancy imagines as a welcoming sort of sensation. Its a good chair, I'm hoping that he lets me keep it here beside the bed, maybe to encourage further visits.
I make myself comfortable and listen as he sets something on the bed. I can feel a pressure on the air around me as he comes to stand over me, and I can feel his touch even before his palm cups my cheek "Will you do exactly as I say, no questions asked?" I nod, turning to press my lips against the pulse at his wrist. He chuckles, allowing the gesture before taking his hand away. "Will you undress?"
I sit up just enough that I can take hold of my nightgown, hands wrapping into its hem as I begin to pull it up. I know he cannot really see me in the dark, but I move slowly because I enjoy the feel of the satin sliding away from my skin, and I like the whisper of sound it makes until he takes it from my hand and drops it onto the bed. He stands still, waiting until I realize he's expecting more and I murmur "There's nothing else."
Darkness looms over me as he moves closer, leaning down. His hand is warm as it skims over one breast, down across my hip and slides between my thighs. There is a slight pressure of his fingers against my clit against he cups his palm against me and rubs for the barest instant. "Good girl." The hand is taken away and he stands above me again.
The silence stretches until I ache with it, or with his presence... "Will you let me..." I reach out, running a hand up his thigh until my fingertips rest on the button of his jeans. He says nothing, but he steps closer and I take that for a yes as I raise my other hand and make quick work of the clothing in my way, leaning down so that I'm nearly falling out of the chair as I slide the denim down toward his feet and wait for him to step out. I sit up again, letting my hair tickle against his skin as I go.
He's only semi-hard as I brush my fingertips over him, but there's a quivering that tells me it won't take much work to finish that job. I shift so that I'm on my knees in the chair, rising enough that I can undo the buttons of his shirt and slide it down his arms. He does nothing to help, though he does step closer so that I can feel the growing erection lost between my breasts. I feel his breath on my cheek for a moment, but he turns his face away before I can try stealing a kiss.
His hand drops onto my waist, moving up my back until he has it tangled into my hair so that I have to arch... and thats when he leans forward again, lips pressing against my throat in a wet kiss, then his teeth come together over skin and I gasp at the sudden pain of the bite. He chuckles, tugging my hair so that I sink down onto the seat of the chair, guiding my mouth toward our desired destination.
I don't tease, not this time. The darkness and mystery, those are for me. But this... this is for him, as I take his now rigid length into my mouth and begin to perform. Nothing fancy, no special tricks, just my lips and mouth and tongue as he guides the bobbing rhythm of my head with his hand in my hair. "Touch yourself" he murmurs thickly, and I let my right hand move down to where his was before, fingers parting folds and sinking deep as I groan softly around him.
A moment later a disappointed whimper is escaping as he pulls himself away "Don't stop" he says "Lean back and enjoy yourself..." I can tell by the tilt of his head that he's listening to the soft noises... the ones that I hate... as I dip my fingers in and out. For a moment, my breath catches as he takes hold of one of my thighs, raising it so that I can let my leg hang over the edge of the chair, then the same with the other so that I'm spread open before him. I'm blushing in the dark, until I remember that it IS dark and he can't actually see... and somehow that makes it easy again.
I scoot so that my ass is on the edge of the seat, leaning my head back against the softness of the headrest as I focus my thoughts on the sensation of my fingers, and the knowledge of his presence. I am so focused on my own pleasure that I almost miss the sudden warmth of his breath against my shoulder as he kneels in front of the chair "Don't stop" he says in my ear as he puts a hand over mine, feeling the movements I make, learning how it is that I satisfy myself.
There's nothing else, no other contact except for his hand over mine, his fingers getting wet as they follow mine. I can tell when he holds his breath, because it stops whispering across my skin, and the only sound in the room is my ragged gasps and suppressed moans as I try to hold myself back from that edge, thinking it won't be allowed. His breath lets out again, and his hand encourages mine to move faster and I know I'm wrong, so I stop thinking and just... feel...
"God" I breathe, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, through my veins, as the tension builds unbearably and I can hardly breathe for trying not to moan so loudly that the roommates will come investigate. I know I'm making soft sounds, whimpers, gasps as the tension mounts higher and I pull my fingers away to stop the flood of sensation, but he moves my hand back again so that I'm rubbing my clit and I'm pretty sure I've stopped breathing entirely as he prevents me from squeezing my thighs together.
I want to snarl or lash out, something violent, instead I slide my fingers lower again, dipping furiously until I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out as the orgasm hits, a whirlwind of sensation focused in my clit and radiating outward, an eruption of warm juices around my fingers. "Jesus" I gasp, collapsing bonelessly in the chair as I fight to catch my breath.
"So you do pray" he teases as his fingers circle my wrist and he brings my hand to his mouth. His lips touch my wrist, as mine did his earlier, then my palm. The ache of need starts to build again as he takes my fingers one by one into his mouth, sucking each clean before he moves to the next.
"Only to you" I manage as he finally releases my hand and lets it fall limp onto my thigh. I'm still sprawled, spread open in the chair before him. I manage to sit up a bit as he leans in, and this time I don't have to try stealing a kiss because he's offering it freely, and I can taste myself on his tongue. He's pinning me to the chair with his body, and I realize its about the right height as I can feel him hard against my inner thigh. It wouldn't take much maneuvering...
"Do you think you've earned it?" He must be able to hear the gears turning in my head as I contemplate exactly how to go about getting him to finally stop teasing and just...
"Yes?" there's an irrepressible note of hope in my voice, though I was trying for confidence.
He takes hold of my wrist again as he climbs to his feet "We'll see. Come to bed now."
I don't know this chair, I don't keep one in the bedroom. I feel it first with my fingertips, an almost velvet texture that caresses my palm as I slide my hand over its arm. I settle into it after only a moment's hesitation, sinking into soft cushions that my half-sleepy fancy imagines as a welcoming sort of sensation. Its a good chair, I'm hoping that he lets me keep it here beside the bed, maybe to encourage further visits.
I make myself comfortable and listen as he sets something on the bed. I can feel a pressure on the air around me as he comes to stand over me, and I can feel his touch even before his palm cups my cheek "Will you do exactly as I say, no questions asked?" I nod, turning to press my lips against the pulse at his wrist. He chuckles, allowing the gesture before taking his hand away. "Will you undress?"
I sit up just enough that I can take hold of my nightgown, hands wrapping into its hem as I begin to pull it up. I know he cannot really see me in the dark, but I move slowly because I enjoy the feel of the satin sliding away from my skin, and I like the whisper of sound it makes until he takes it from my hand and drops it onto the bed. He stands still, waiting until I realize he's expecting more and I murmur "There's nothing else."
Darkness looms over me as he moves closer, leaning down. His hand is warm as it skims over one breast, down across my hip and slides between my thighs. There is a slight pressure of his fingers against my clit against he cups his palm against me and rubs for the barest instant. "Good girl." The hand is taken away and he stands above me again.
The silence stretches until I ache with it, or with his presence... "Will you let me..." I reach out, running a hand up his thigh until my fingertips rest on the button of his jeans. He says nothing, but he steps closer and I take that for a yes as I raise my other hand and make quick work of the clothing in my way, leaning down so that I'm nearly falling out of the chair as I slide the denim down toward his feet and wait for him to step out. I sit up again, letting my hair tickle against his skin as I go.
He's only semi-hard as I brush my fingertips over him, but there's a quivering that tells me it won't take much work to finish that job. I shift so that I'm on my knees in the chair, rising enough that I can undo the buttons of his shirt and slide it down his arms. He does nothing to help, though he does step closer so that I can feel the growing erection lost between my breasts. I feel his breath on my cheek for a moment, but he turns his face away before I can try stealing a kiss.
His hand drops onto my waist, moving up my back until he has it tangled into my hair so that I have to arch... and thats when he leans forward again, lips pressing against my throat in a wet kiss, then his teeth come together over skin and I gasp at the sudden pain of the bite. He chuckles, tugging my hair so that I sink down onto the seat of the chair, guiding my mouth toward our desired destination.
I don't tease, not this time. The darkness and mystery, those are for me. But this... this is for him, as I take his now rigid length into my mouth and begin to perform. Nothing fancy, no special tricks, just my lips and mouth and tongue as he guides the bobbing rhythm of my head with his hand in my hair. "Touch yourself" he murmurs thickly, and I let my right hand move down to where his was before, fingers parting folds and sinking deep as I groan softly around him.
A moment later a disappointed whimper is escaping as he pulls himself away "Don't stop" he says "Lean back and enjoy yourself..." I can tell by the tilt of his head that he's listening to the soft noises... the ones that I hate... as I dip my fingers in and out. For a moment, my breath catches as he takes hold of one of my thighs, raising it so that I can let my leg hang over the edge of the chair, then the same with the other so that I'm spread open before him. I'm blushing in the dark, until I remember that it IS dark and he can't actually see... and somehow that makes it easy again.
I scoot so that my ass is on the edge of the seat, leaning my head back against the softness of the headrest as I focus my thoughts on the sensation of my fingers, and the knowledge of his presence. I am so focused on my own pleasure that I almost miss the sudden warmth of his breath against my shoulder as he kneels in front of the chair "Don't stop" he says in my ear as he puts a hand over mine, feeling the movements I make, learning how it is that I satisfy myself.
There's nothing else, no other contact except for his hand over mine, his fingers getting wet as they follow mine. I can tell when he holds his breath, because it stops whispering across my skin, and the only sound in the room is my ragged gasps and suppressed moans as I try to hold myself back from that edge, thinking it won't be allowed. His breath lets out again, and his hand encourages mine to move faster and I know I'm wrong, so I stop thinking and just... feel...
"God" I breathe, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, through my veins, as the tension builds unbearably and I can hardly breathe for trying not to moan so loudly that the roommates will come investigate. I know I'm making soft sounds, whimpers, gasps as the tension mounts higher and I pull my fingers away to stop the flood of sensation, but he moves my hand back again so that I'm rubbing my clit and I'm pretty sure I've stopped breathing entirely as he prevents me from squeezing my thighs together.
I want to snarl or lash out, something violent, instead I slide my fingers lower again, dipping furiously until I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out as the orgasm hits, a whirlwind of sensation focused in my clit and radiating outward, an eruption of warm juices around my fingers. "Jesus" I gasp, collapsing bonelessly in the chair as I fight to catch my breath.
"So you do pray" he teases as his fingers circle my wrist and he brings my hand to his mouth. His lips touch my wrist, as mine did his earlier, then my palm. The ache of need starts to build again as he takes my fingers one by one into his mouth, sucking each clean before he moves to the next.
"Only to you" I manage as he finally releases my hand and lets it fall limp onto my thigh. I'm still sprawled, spread open in the chair before him. I manage to sit up a bit as he leans in, and this time I don't have to try stealing a kiss because he's offering it freely, and I can taste myself on his tongue. He's pinning me to the chair with his body, and I realize its about the right height as I can feel him hard against my inner thigh. It wouldn't take much maneuvering...
"Do you think you've earned it?" He must be able to hear the gears turning in my head as I contemplate exactly how to go about getting him to finally stop teasing and just...
"Yes?" there's an irrepressible note of hope in my voice, though I was trying for confidence.
He takes hold of my wrist again as he climbs to his feet "We'll see. Come to bed now."
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